Posted on 03/05/2006 9:53:55 AM PST by Knitting A Conundrum
I've spent the last three or four days drowning myself in websites filled with Celtic music midis and learning to play O'Carolan's Ramble to Cashel. My music library is a strange collection of 80s compilation albums, collections of Celtic music, works by Steel Eye Span, Moya Brennan, Pentangle, Clannad, Dougie McClean, and Bluegrass. I can sometimes tell you which Child Ballad a song is a variation of, and might know how to sing two or three different major variations.
Tis a sickness.
Wonder if anybody else had picked up this bug besides me....And I am logged in, my beeper is at stune, and I have no sister for a moose to bite. But I still collect every variation of Suil A Ruin (Shool a Roon, Johnny has gone for a soldier, Buttermilk Hill) I can find.
You'd think I'd try to learn Gaelic.
While I'm at it, the Mist Covered Mountains
Chorus
Oh ro soon shall I see them;
Oh he ro see them oh see them.
Oh ro soon shall I see them the
mist covered mountains of home.
There shall I visit the place of my birth
And they'll give me a welcome the warmest on earth
All so loving and kind full of music and mirth,
In the sweet sounding language of home.
Chorus
Oh ro soon shall I see them;
Oh he ro see them oh see them.
Oh ro soon shall I see them the
mist covered mountains of home.
There shall I gaze on the mountains again,
On the fields and the woods and the burns and the glens,
Away 'mong the corries beyond human ken
In the haunts of the deer I will roam
Chorus
Oh ro soon shall I see them;
Oh he ro see them oh see them.
Oh ro soon shall I see them the
mist covered mountains of home.
Hail to the mountains with summits of blue,
To the glens with their meadows of sunshine and dew.
To the women and men ever constant and true,
Ever ready to welcome one home.
http://www.freerepublic.com/perl/post?id=1590412%2C1
In Gaelic (not phonetic - I wish it was):
Refrain:
O Chi, chi mi na mor-bheannaibh;
O Chi, chi mi na cor-bheannaibh;
O Chi, chi mi na coireachan ---
Chi mi na sgoraibh fo cheò.
1. Chi mi gun dàil an t-àit' 's d' rugadh mi,
Cuirear orm fàilt' 's a' chainnt a thuigeas mi;
Gheibh mi ann aoidh a's gràdh 'n uair ruigeam
Nach reicinn air tunnachan òir.
2. Chi mi a' ghrian an liath nam flaitheanas,
Chi mi 's an iar a ciar 'n uair luidheas i;
Cha 'n ionnan 's mar tha i ghnàth 's a' bhaile so
'N deatach a' falach a glòir.
3. Gheibh mi ann ceòl bho eòin na Duthaige,
Ged a tha 'n t-àm thar àm na cuthaige,
Tha smeòraichean ann is annsa guth leam
Na pìob, no fiodhal mar cheòl.
4. Gheibh mi le lìontan iasgach sgadain ann,
Gheibh mi le iarraidh bric a's bradain ann;
Na'm faighinn mo mhiann 's ann ann a stadainn,
'S ann ann is fhaid' bhithinn beò.
5. Chi mi ann coilltean, chi mi ann doireachan,
Chi mi ann màghan bàn' is torraiche,
Chi mi na féidh air làr nan coireachan,
Falaicht' an trusgan do cheò.
6. Beanntaichean àrd' is àillidh leachdainnean,
Sluagh ann an còmhnuidh 's còire cleachdainnean,
'S aotram mo cheum a' leum g'am faicinn,
A's fanaidh mi tachdan le deòin.
7. Fàgaidh mi ùpraid, sùrd, a's glagaraich,
Dh'fhaicinn na tìr an cluinnt' a' chagaraich,
Fàgaidh mi cùirtean dùinte, salach,
A dh'amharc air gleannaibh nam bò.
8. Fàilt' air na gorm-mheallaibh, tholmach, thulachanach,
Fàilt' air na còrr-bheanna mòra, mullanach,
Fàilt' air na coilltean, fàilt' air na h-uile,
O! 's sona bhi 'fuireach 'n an còir.
And O'Carolan:
http://english.glendale.cc.ca.us/carolan.html
Toirdhealbhach O'Cearbhallain
(Turlough O'Carolan)
Quotes:
'Wider than the heavens is my fame...I am the best as regards the power of my fingers...nobody will ever be found to match me..."
Carolan
'Ludicrous tales delighted him..."
Charles O'Connor
"Est homo qui potest bibere"
(He is a man who is able to drink!)
Jonathan Swift
In Ireland about 300 years ago, there lived a harpist, singer and composer by the name of Turlough 'O Carolan. He was born in West Meath around 1670. When he was eighteen, he caught small pox, a disease which was usually fatal at the time. His life was spared, but he was left permanently blind. Turlough's blindness, in a way, was a blessing because it awakened in him a hidden gift for music. A local noble woman by the name of Mary Fitzgerald McDermott Rowe saw to it that he was trained in the Irish harp, gave him a horse and guide and sent him on his way.
At first, he was not considered a great musician. (The ancient bards were supposed to have started their training when they were still young children and Carolan didn't start until he was an adult.) One of his first patrons, a Squire Reynolds, suggested that he try his hand at composition. His first work, "Si Beag, Si Mor", resulted from this suggestion. After he finished the composition, his fame was spread throughout all of Ireland and he started his career.
The way Carolan made his living, was to travel from big house to big house, from castle to castle, entertaining the households and the friends of some of the most famous and wealthy people of Ireland at the time. Often, as a special favor, he would write a tune in honor of the man of the house, or his wife or daughter. He called these tunes "Planxties". He was very successful and people would often delay weddings and funerals until he could be present to play the appropriate tune.
When Carolan was a very young man, before his blindness, he met and fell in love with a young woman named Bridget Cruise. Bridget was part of a noble family and Carolan's family was of skilled laborers, so a match could never be made. And even though he went on to live a very successful life, he never forgot Bridget and wrote 3 planxties in her honor. He met her again near the end of his life, when he was on his way to a religious retreat in County Donegal. He happened to touch a woman's hand and instantly recognized that it was hers.
Carolan was also famous for his love of drink, especially Irish whiskey. He wrote a tune in honor of whiskey. As he was dying, he called for one last cup of his favorite brew. His dying words were said to be "the drink and I have been friends for so long, it would be a pity for me to leave without one last kiss." And he died.
Dates:
* 1601 Battle of Kinsale marks the beginning of the end of Gaelic independence.
* 1607 Flight of the Earls.
* 1670 Carolan born near Nobber in County Meath.
* 1684 His father John Carolan and family move west to County Leitrim.
* 1688 Blinded by smallpox.
* 1690 Battle of the Boyne, July 1.
* 1692 He starts his public life as a traveling harper.
* 1695 Introduction of the Penal Laws.
* 1720 He marries Mary Maguire. She was a "young lady". He was 50. They had seven children; one boy and six girls. They lived in Mohill, County Leitrim.
* 1733 Mary passes away.
* 1738 Carolan passes away on March 25 (Saturday) at 68 years of age at the MacDermott Roe Estate, "Alderford" in County Roscommon and is buried with much ceremony in the church yard of Kilronan.
As a man he was:
-conscious of his position, convivial, high spirited, a serious drinker, irascible, proud, a teacher, a lover of ludicrous tales, a quick wit, a composer for Gael and Gall, a clever versifier, a skilled satirist, a flirt, and a liturgical musician.
His poetry was:
-secondary to the music, mostly in Irish, dignified and polished, described men and respectable women and their ancestry, hospitality and kindness (traditional court themes), had a cheerful and "carpe diem" attitude, is characterized by internal consonant and vowel rhyme and assonance of stressed vowels
An O'Carolan midi site
http://www.contemplator.com/carolan/caroltun.html#top
Well, aren't you a little lark in the morning!
You're pulling on my nostalgia strings with Suil a Ruin.
My high school boyfriend played guitar and he and I sang this together.
I didn't even know I was half-Irish at the time, or didn't think of it much.
Anyway, I deeply love Celtic music as I guess it speaks to my blood. It sure speaks to my soul.
You know who interprets O'Carolan -- the blind harper -- so well is Alan Stivell. I hope someone can post actual music today; what a treat. I hope we find who our fellow addicts are on FR.
There's a variation on one verse of these lyrics, a song I heard sung by Mary Black, the Leaboy's Lassie.
First when I came to the town,
They called me young and bonny
Now they've changed my name
Call me the leaboy's lassie.
I'll dye my petticoats red
And I'll face them with a yellow
Tell all the dyester lads
The leaboys I've to follow ....
That's one I haven't run across yet!
I have Andrew Lawrence King's Carolan's Harp, and that is fun. But I have a compilation album called Celtic Oddyssy that has Carolan's Ramble to Cashell by Northern Lights which is where I fell in love with his music.
Off-topic: great tagline, in line with a conversation I've been having with a friend.
I'll try your link now.
I don't know where I got the bug, but listening to somebody's version of Mattie Groves back in '68 got me hooked for sure:
Here's a nice one, but in my head, the wronged husband is Lord Donald.
A holiday, a holiday,
The first one of the year
Lord Arlen's wife came into church
The gospel for to hear.
And when the meeting it was done
She cast her eyes about
And there she saw little Mattie Groves,
Walking in the park.
Come home with me
Little Mattie Groves,
Come home with me tonight
Come home with me
Little Mattie Groves
And sleep with me tonight.
Oh I can't come home,
I won't come home
And sleep with you tonight
By the rings on your fingers
I can tell you are Lord Arlen's wife.
'Tis true I am Lord Arlen's wife,
Lord Arlen's not at home
He is out to the far corn fields,
Bringing the yearlings home.
And the sundt who was standing by
And hearing what was said
He saw Lord Arlen, he would know,
Before the sun would set.
And in his hurry to carry the news,
He filled his breast and ran
And when he came to the broad mill stream
He took off his shoes and swam
Little Mattie Groves, he lay down
And took a little sleep
When he awoke Lord Arlen,
Was standing at his feet
Saying how do you like my feather bed
And how do you like my sheets
And how do you like my lady,
Who lies in your arms asleep.
Oh well I like your feather bed
And well I like your sheets
But better I like your lady maid
Who lies in my arms asleep.
Well Get Up! Get Up! Lord Arlen cried,
Get up as quick as you can
It'll never be said in fair England
I slew a naked man!
Oh I won't get up, I won't get up,
I can't get up for my life
For you have two long beaten swords
And I have but a pocket knife.
Well it's true I have two beaten swords,
They cost me deep in the purse
But you will have the better of them
And I will have the worst.
And you will strike the very first blow
And strike it like a man
I will strike the very next blow
And I'll kill you if I can.
So Mattie struck the very first blow
And he hurt Lord Arlen sore
Lord Arlen struck the very next blow
And Mattie struck no more.
And then Lord Arlen he took his wife,
He sat her on his knee
Saying who do you like the best of us,
Mattie Groves or me.
And then spoke up his own dear wife
Never heard to speak so free
I'd rather kiss one dead Mattie's lips
Than you and your finery.
Lord Arlen he jumped up
And loudly he did bawl
He stuck his wife right through the heart
And pinned her against the wall.
A grave, a grave, Lord Arlen cried,
To put these lovers in
But bury my lady at the top
For she was of noble kin.
I'm more of an Appalachian/bluegrass fan, but I enjoy listening to traditional Scots Irish, Irish, Welsh, English, and Scottish music and hearing the connection with our traditional country and bluegrass.
You and my husband. I listen to the Celtic stuff, he listens to the bluegrass stuff, and sometimes, they are the same stuff...
But I am a (not too close)cousin to Lester Flatt, so bluegrass is also dear to my heart.
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