My youngest son

Lo so, lo so, la conosceranno la maggior parte di voi...però mi andava di postarla. E' una canzone bellissima, secondo me.

My youngest son came home today.
His friends marched with him all the way.
The flutes and drums beat out the time,
As in his box of polished pine,
Like dead meat on a butcher's tray,
My youngest son came home today.

My youngest son was a fine young man,
With a wife a daughter and two son.
A man he would have lived and died,
'Til by a bullet sanctified.
Now he's a saint, or so they say,
They brought their saint at home today.

Above the narrow Belfast streets,
An Irish sky looks down and weeps
On children's blood in gutters spilled
For dreams of freedom unfulfilled.
As part of freedom's price to pay,
My youngest son came home today.

My youngest son came home today.
His friends marched with him all the way.
The flutes and drums beat out the time
As in his box of polished pine,
Like dead meat on a butcher's tray,
My youngest so came home today,
And this time he's home to stay.

Via, ci metto anche questa. Aggiungete anche voi qualcosa?

ONLY OUR RIVERS RUN FREE
Michael MacConnell

When apples still grow in November
When blossom remains on each tree
When leaves are still green in December
It's then that our land will be free
I've wandered her hills and her valleys
And still to my sorrow I see
A land that has never known freedom
Where only her rivers run free.

I drink to the death of her manhood
Those men who would rather have died
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage
To bring back their rights we're denied
Oh, where are you now when we need you
What burns where the flame used to be
Are you gone like the snow of last winter
And will only our rivers run free.

How sweet is life but we're crying
How mellow the wine yet we're dry
How fragrant the rose but it's dying
How gentle the wind yet it sighs
What good is in youth when you're aging
What joy is in eyes that can see
That there is sorrow in sunshine and flowers
If only our rivers run free.

eccomi


Carrickfergus

I wished I had you in Carrickfergus,
Only for nights in Ballygrand,
I would swim over the deepest ocean,
The deepest ocean to be by your side.

But the sea is wide and I can't swim over
And neither have I wings to fly.
I wish I could find me a handy boatman
To ferry me over to my love and die.

My childhood days bring back sad reflections
Of happy days so long ago.
My boyhood friends and my own relations.
Have all passed on like the melting snow.

So I'll spend my days in endless roving,
Soft is the grass and my bed is free.
Oh to be home now in Carrickfergus,
On the long road down to the salty sea.

And in Kilkenny it is reported
On marble stone there as black as ink,
With gold and silver I did support her
But I'll sing no more now till I get a drink.

I'm drunk today and I'm rarely sober,
A handsome rover from town to town.
Oh but I am sick now and my days are numbered
Come all ye young men and lay me down.

e ora una dei Black 47....meno tradizionale

BOBBY SANDS MP
My name is Bobby Sands, MP
Born in the city of Belfast
Divided by religion
I grew up fast

I was stabbed and I was spat upon
My family run out of its home
There was only one solution
Turn the whole system upside down

But the system had other ideas
I got lifted for carryin' a gun
In a trial without a jury
I got fourteen years from the judge

Screws beat me regularly
But they couldn't break me because
I had the love of my comrades
And a burnin' faith in my Cause

Still I left a girl outside pregnant
Married her while on remand
Now I got a son and a pain in my heart
When he doesn't recognize his old man

Your soul's on ice oh oh oh oh
But they can't stop the desire
To break on out oh oh oh oh
When your heart is on fire

We wouldn't wear their convict clothes
So they stripped us to the bone
Threw in some threadbare blankets.....

And when they jeered us about our nakedness
As we slopped out down the halls
We wouldn't come out of their prison cells
We smeared shit on their prison walls

Stuck in an eight foot concrete box
With a bible, a mattress
And the threat of violence every day....

Can I make it through these fourteen years
Will my son remember my face
I don't blame her for the separation
But for Christ's sake let him keep his name

Your soul's on ice oh oh oh oh
But they can't stop the desire
To break on out oh oh oh oh
When your heart is on fire

Five simple things we ask of them
Five simple things denied
But Thatcher will not compromise....

I ask my Mother's permission
To finally break her heart
We have come to a decision
......Hunger Strike

Three comrades starve behind me
I pray to God that my
Death will lead to compromise....

I can no longer see your face
My bones break through my skin
I'm goin' back to Belfast City
You can't cage my spirit in

Your soul's on ice
But they can't stop the desire
To break on out
When your heart is on fire

grandissimo fergus!!!! continuiamo?

WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY
by Robert Dwyer Joyce (1830-1883)

I sat within a valley green
Sat there with my true love
And my fond heart strove to choose between
The old love and the new love
The old for her, the new that made
Me think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glade
And shook the golden barley

Twas hard the mournful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us
Ah, but harder still to bear the shame
Of foreign chains around us
And so I said, "The mountain glen
I'll seek at morning early
And join the brave united men"
While soft wind shook the barley

Twas sad I kissed away her tears
Her arms around me clinging
When to my ears that fateful shot
Come out the wildwood ringing
The bullet pierced my true love's breast
In life's young spring so early
And there upon my breast she died
While soft wind shook the barley

I bore her to some mountain stream
And many's the summer blossom
I placed with branches soft and green
About her gore-stained bosom
I wept and kissed her clay-cold corpse
Then rushed o'er vale and valley
My vengeance on the foe to wreak
While soft wind shook the barley

Twas blood for blood without remorse
I took at Oulart Hollow
I placed my true love's clay-cold corpse
Where mine full soon may follow
Around her grave I wondered drear
Noon, night and morning early
With aching heart when e'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley

Questa pure mi piace un casino:

BOLD BELFAST SHOEMAKER.

Come all you true born Irishmen wherever you may be,
I hope you'll pay attention and listen unto me,
I am a bold shoemaker from Belfast town I came,
And to my great misfortune I listed in the train.

I had a fair young sweetheart Jane Wilson was her name,
She said it grieved her to the heart to see me in the train,
She told me if I would desert to come and let her know,
She would dress me up in her old clothes that I might go to and fro.

We marched through Chapelizod like heroes stout and bold,
I'll be no more a slave to them my officer I told,
For to work upon a Sunday with me did not agree,
And so brave boys I did declare to take my liberty.

When encamped near Tipperary we soon got his command,
For me and for my comrade bold that night on guard to stand,
The night it being both wet and dark and so we did agree,
That on that very night brave boys we'd take our liberty.

The night that I deserted I had no place to stay,
I went into a meadow and lay down in the hay,
It was not long that I lay there till I arose again,
And looking all around me I espied six of the train.

We had a bloody battle and soon I beat them all,
And soon the dastard cowards for mercy loud did call,
saying spare our lives brave Irwin and we will pray for thee,
And by all that's fair we will declare for you and liberty.

As for George Carrick I own he _s very mean,
For the sake of forty shillings he had me took again,
They locked me in the guardroom my fate for to deplore,
With four on every window and six on every door.

I being in close confinement I soon looked all around,
I leaped out of the window and knocked four of them down,
The light horse and the train my boys they soon did follow me,
But I kept my road before them and preserved my liberty.

I next joined Father Murphy as you will plainly hear,
And many's the battle did I fight with his brave Shelmaliers,
With four hundred of his croppy boys we battered Lord Mountjoy,
And at the battle of New Ross we made ten thousand fly.

I am a bold shoemaker and Irwin is my name,
I could beat as many Orangemen as listed in the train,
I could beat as many Orangemen as could stand in a row,
I would make them fly before me like an arrow from a bow.

ho scommesso 10 pinte con aska su una cosa che capiterà in questo topic...

appena vincerò vi dirò su cosa ho scommesso...

Moorlough Shore (Una versione di The Foggy Dew)

La trovo molto bella non particolarmente per il testo ma per l'interpretazione di Caroline Lavelle.


"I have waited long for you to come back home
to hear you call my name again
in my heart's deep soul you've not changed at all
and the years have passed you by
your sweet lips that lingered on my skin
i can feel their heat again
and your eyes that thrilled with passion's fire
they watch my every whim

some say my love, sweet love was lost
while crossing the raging main
or perhaps he has gone with some other girl
I might never see his face again
but if my irish love is lost he's the one I do adore
and for seven long years i'll wait for him
on the banks of the moorlough shore

he said farewell to castles grand
farewell to the foggy hills
where the linen waves like bleaching silk
and the falling stream runs still
near there we spent our joyful days but alas they are all gone
for cruelty has banished him
far away from the moorlough shore"

Ciao

Io sono profondamente innamorato di questa struggente canzone (nella magistrale interpretazione dei "Fureys and Davy Arthur"):

The green fields of France (No Man's Land) (by Eric Bogle)

Chorus :
Did they beat the drum slowly, did they play the fife lowly,
Did they sound the deadmarch as they lowered you down,
Did the band play the 'Last waltz' in chorus
Did the pipes play the 'Flow'rs of the forest'


1. Well how do you do, young Willie Mc Bride
Do you mind if I sit here by your graveside
And rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun
I've been working all day and I'm nearly done
I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen in nineteen sixteen
I hope you died well and I hope you died clean
Or, young Willie Mc Bride, was it slow and obscene.

Chorus

2. And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
Although you died back in nineteen sixteen
In that faithful heart are you forever nineteen
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Enclosed and forever behind the glass frame
In a old photograph, torn and battered and stained
And fade to yellow in a brown leather frame.

Chorus

3. The sun now it shines on the green fields of France
There's a warm summer breeze, it makes the red poppies dance
And look how the sun shines from under the clouds
There's no gas, no barbed wire, there's no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard it's still no-man's land
The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned.

Chorus

4. Now young Willie Mc Bride I can't help but wonder why
Do all those who lie here know they died
And did they believe when they answered the cause
Did they really believe that this war would end wars
Well the sorrows, the suffering, the glory, the pain
The killing and the dying was all done in vain
For young Willie Mc Bride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again.

Chorus (twice)

P.S. Non sarà specificamente nord-irlandese, ma mi sembra che si adatti bene al 3rd.

[Modificato da cossaigh 22/09/2004 8.45]

Ah lads, ma che vi siete bevuti?
Moris, fai anche me pertecipe

---

Scritto da: admin/moris 21/09/2004 23.45
ho scommesso 10 pinte con aska su una cosa che capiterà in questo topic...

appena vincerò vi dirò su cosa ho scommesso...

---

secondo me é questa

In Dublin's fair city,
Where girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she pushed her wheelbarrow
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

Chorus:
Alive, alive oh! alive, alive oh!
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!
.......

fergus : acquaaaa....
In realtà non è che abbia scommesso... gli ho solo detto che se non c'azzecco con la previsione entro natale gli devo offrire da bere...

[Modificato da admin/moris 22/09/2004 13.49]

mmmh
il mistero s'infittisce ....
affascinante

Un'altra canzone che mi piace assai:

Oh come you good people that go out a-tippling,
I pray you give attention and listen to my song.
I'll sing you a ditty of a jolly bold robber,
Stood seven foot high, in proportion quite strong.

He robbed lawyer Morgan and old Lady Dawkins;
Five hundred bright guineas from each one of them;
And as he was a-strolling he met a young sailor,
And bold as a lion he slewed up to him.

"Hand over your money, you saucy young sailor.
You've plenty of bulk in your pocket, I know."
"Oh, aye," says the sailor, "I have got a bit of money,
And I'd damned if I see why I should give it to you.

I've just left my ship, give the press-gang the slip,
And I'm bound up to London my sweetheart to see.
I've four bright sovereigns for to pay our sweet lodgings,
So I pray you, jolly robber, please leave it to me."

Then the robber caught hold of that gallant young sailor;
With a blow like a pole-axe felled him to the ground.
"Oh aye," says the sailor, "You have struck me quite heavy,
And now I'll endeavour to repay you in kind."

It was then, boys, they stripped and like tigers they skipped,
And they fought blow for blow like to soldiers in the field.
At the ninety-seventh meeting it was the completing,
For this gallant young sailor the bold robber he killed.

Then the sailor looked down on the bloodstained bold robber.
"I hope you'll forgive me, old fellow," says he,
"But if I had just lifted a thousand bright guineas,
I'm damned if I'd have stopped a poor sailor like me."

"This song was collected by Ralph Vaughan Williams from a fisherman called Anders on, of King's Lynn in Norfolk, England, and published in his Folk Songs from the Eastern Counties (1908, re-published in 1961 in a collected edition edited by Cecil Sharp, as English County Songs), and subsequently in A.L. Lloyd's Folk Song in England (1967), which is where I found it. It is confusingly called The Saucy Bold Robber; the more obvious title I use here is also that used by Brass Monkey on their 1983 recording of it, the only one I have ever come across."

Hello my friends, do you know this drinking song ?
It's a song without title, only to sing, to make something.
Is not null of extraordinary is the tradition of our country,
and you can also be sung without voice,the health is enough. When you are health you have all you need.
The health is enough and a pair of new shoes and can turn all the world, and I accompany myself from me.


Fairies wide that we are passing,
these youth of this beautiful A'Rom.
We are made boys with paint-brush,
and the girls we make to follow in love.
and the girls we make to follow in love.

But that of what we have cure, but about what we are interest,
if the landlord has put water into the wine : and we say to him, and we repeat to him,
"you have put the water, and we’ll not pay you” but,
we are those, than we answer to him in chorus:
"is better the wine of the Castles that this dirty society".

we appreciate the chickens, the lambs and the hens,
because they are without thorns, I do not know like the stockfish.
The society of the big eater the society de the youth,
we appeals to eat and drink, and it does not appeal to work.

Landlord!!!!.

Bring us an other liter,
than we drink it,
and then we answer to him:
"so what, so what, what do you want?"

And when the wine, so what,
it arrives us into the goitre, so what ,
to the throat, so what,
it makes a bump to us, so what.

In order to make it short, to cut a long story in short,
calls the landlord : bring us to drink,
to drink, to drink,
za za

And if for case the mother of our wife dies
we cooks two spaghetti amatriciana,
we drink a pair of liters to thousand degrees,
we drink to be drunk and we are not think more
we drink to be drunk and we are not think more

But that of what we have cure another time, but that ce it imports another time,
if the host has put water into the wine : and we say to him, and we repeat to him,
"you have put the water, and we’ll not pay you” but,
we are those, than we answer to him in chorus:
"is better the wine of the Castles that this dirty society".

Best Redgards

meraviglioso....sto veramente colle lacrime agli occhi
quando si leggono siffatti versi si genera un' interferenza del cuore tale che mi sembra già di conoscerti...

Ro'

Andy Irvine

I was born in Carrickfergus in the sweet County Antrim
And many’s the pleasant childhood hour I spent
Never dreaming that the future would drive me from my homeland
I was happy with each moment that God sent.
The broad oak trees in winter their branches bend and sway
The flowers in the meadow on a long bright summer’s day
Walking hand in hand with my sister by the strand
A boat trip from Fisherman’s quay
O the days we went out sailing on the sea.

I used to watch the older children laughing at the school across our street
I could scarcely wait to join in with their play
But I soon found out that my religion marked me down as different
And our poor school was two long miles away
All through my teenage years I learned to live in fear
They beat us and they threatened us, we do not want you here
And my childhood friends and their families
They were forced to leave the town
And I sometimes heard the gunshots that gunned my neighbours down
Yes I sometimes heard my neighbours gunned down.

A friend was blown up and killed standing at his own front door
I wept at so many funerals I scarce could weep no more
And my father’s shop it was boycotted though he treated everyone the same
And I hope that those who deserted him later felt the shame
May those who wrecked his business walk in shame.

Carrick was not like Belfast we had no sanctuary to call our own
We had nowhere like the Falls or the Ardoyne
On our streets we watched in horror the UVF parading
The Oppressor in his mask and uniform
Late one night a car pulled up and a gunman climbed out
He fired his gun at our window and we heard his obscene shouts
And the police when they arrived they were hearty hale and bluff
And I heard the voice of reason crying out enough
Yes I heard the voice of reason cry enough.

I was born in Carrickfergus in the sweet County Antrim
I’ve been gone ten years without too much regret
For the first time in my life I feel confident and trusting
But the lessons learned I never will forget
I support the Native People who live throughout this land
For very well I know the weight of the Oppressor’s hand
And I teach my children likewise as they flourish and they grow
And I’m happy living where the Brisbane River freely flows

a quando "rome don't be foolish tonight" ?
su, su...

una delle mie favorite, mi hai soffiato il prossimo post fergus!!!!

[Modificato da rosy71 28/09/2004 9.47]

Ed ecco una bella love song nord-irlandese (proveniente dalla Contea di Armagh) presente nel CD "At The End Of The Day" (1996) dei "Dervish":

I Courted a Wee Girl

I courted a wee girl for many's the long day
And I slighted all others that came in my way
But now she's rewarded me to the last day
For she's gone to be wed to another.

The bride and bride's party to church they did go
The bride she rode foremost she put the best show
And I followed after with a heart full of woe
To see my love wed to another

The bride and bride's party in church they did stand
Gold rings on their fingers, a love by the hand
The man she is wed to has houses and land
He may have her since I couldn't gain her.

The next time I saw her, she was seated down neat
I sat down beside her, not a bite could I eat
For I thought my love's company far better than meat
Since love was the cause of my ruin

The last time I saw her she was all dressed in white
And the more I gazed on her she dazzled my sight
I lifted my hat and I bade her good night
Here's adieu to our false-hearted lovers

I courted that wee girl for many's the long day
And I slighted all others that came in my way
And now she's rewarded me to the last day
She's gone to be wed to another.

So dig me a grave, and dig it down deep
And strew it all over with primrose so sweet
And lay me down easy no more for to weep
Since love was the cause of my ruin.

Rivista in chiave femminile:

I courted a young man

I courted a young man for many's the long day
And slighted all other who came in my way
And now he's rewarded me to the last day
For he's gone to be wed to another

The bride and bride's party to church they did go
The bride she rode foremost, she made a great show
And I followed after with a heart full of woe
To see me love wed to another

The bride and bridegroom in church they did stand
Cold rings on their fingers, a love by the hand
The girl he is married to is beauteous and grand
She may have him since I couldn't get her

The next time I saw him he was seated down neat
I sat down beside him, not a bite could I eat
For I found my love's company far better than meat
Since love's been the cause of my ruin

The last time I saw him he was splendid in grey
The more I gazed him the less I could say
So I dropped a wee curtsy and bid him good day
Here's adieu to all false-hearted lovers

I courted that young man for many's the long day
And slighted all others who came in my way
And now he's rewarded me to the last day
For he's gone to be wed to another

So dig me a grave and dig it down deep
And strew it all over with primrose so sweet
And lay me down easy for no more to weep
Since love's been the cause of my ruin

Può sembrare la fine di una storia d'amore, ma non è proprio così: è il dialogo tra un uomo morente e sua madre, nella prigione di Maze durante gli scioperi della fame.

THE TIME HAS COME (D. Lunny-C. Moore)
The time has come to part my love
I must go away
I'll leave you now my darling girl
no longer can I stay
My heart like yours is breaking
together we'll prove strong
the road I'll take will show the world
the suffering that goes on

The gentle clasp that holds my hand
must loosen and let go
Please help me through that door
though instinct tells you no
Our wow it is eternal
and will bring you dreadful pain
but if our demands aren't recognized
don't call me back again

How their sorrow touched us all
in those final days
when it was time she held the door
and touched his sallow face
the flame he lit while leaving
is still burning strong
by the light it's plain to see
the suffering still goes on...and on

OT OT OT !!!
Avevo in mente di postarne un'altra che non tratta del nord e non proviene neanche da lì. Anche se non mi interessa la musica di Mary Coughlan, stò per postare un testo dal suo repertorio. Ci sono elencate un po' di magagne irlandesi, partendo dall'aborto: a typical irish solution to an irish problem.

My land is too green

my land is bogged down in religious tradition
we nod our heads in humble submission
one foot in the door
a hand in your pocket
we export our problems for foreign solutions

my land is naive
too scared of the devil
holier than thou
with eyes up to heaven
when nobody looks
we tear strips off our neighbours
and have a good laugh at it all in the end

shrouded in mist
the outlook's appalling
pressure is rising and temperature's falling
sunny spells and scattered showers
and still it rains for hours and hours
as the floods rise we drown our sorrows
tossing them back like there is no tomorrow
and in the end we'll sit or stand
and piss it back into the bogholes of Ireland

my land is too fond of incurable scheming
the promises given are nothing but dreaming
we all love a rogue
we'll make him our leader
but every few years we're right back to zero

my land is still poor and underdeveloped
we talk around our problems for hours on end
and then we decide there's two sides to the story
and have a good laugh at it all in the end

I wish I was in Carrickfergus
Where the castle looks out to sea.
I would swim over the deepest ocean
For my love to be with me.
But the sea is wide and I can not swim over
Nor have I the wings to fly
I wish I had a handsome boatman,
To ferry me over, my love and I.
I wish I was in the land of Eire,
Where the mountains reach the sea.
Where flowers blossom as I do remember.
Where my true love came to me.
But the sea is wide and I can not swim over.
Nor have I the wings to fly.
Ahh to be back now in Carrickfergus
To be together .. my love and I.
To be together .. my love and I.
I wish I was in Carrickfergus,
To be together my love and I.
I wish I was back home again.

Riprendiamo questo topic, considerato che sul mio iPod ci sono moltissime canzoni irlandesi - repubblicane e unioniste, per par condicio .

Questa canzone è stata scritta in onore di Bobby Sands dall'amico e compagno Brenda 'Bik' McFarlane.
"Marcella" è il nome di una delle sorelle di Bobby, utilizzato dal primo hunger striker repubblicano quale firma negli scritti fatti uscire dai Blocchi H.


Song for Marcella

Doesn’t seem quite so long ago,
The last time that I saw you,
Ain't it funny how the memories grow,
They always fold around you,
They tried to break you in a living hell,
But they couldn't find a way,
So they killed you in a H. block cell,
And hoped that all would turn away,
Thought that your spirit couldn't rise again
But it dared to prove them wrong,
And in death you tore away the chains,
And let the world hear freedom's song,

(chorus)

Yet the heartache and pain linger on,
They're still here though it’s so long since you've gone,
But we're stronger now you showed us how,
Freedom's fight can be won

I wish there was an easy road to choose,
To bring the heartache to an end,
But easy roads are always sure to lose,
I've seen that time and time again,
If you can stand by me like yesterday,
I'll find the strength to carry on,
So let your spirit shine along the way,
And our day will surely come,

(chorus)

Yet the heartache and pain linger on,
They're still here though its so long since you've gone,
But we're stronger now, you showed us how,
Freedom's fight can be won, if we all stand as one.

x i miei zii

The Drumnakilly Ambush

Once again black flags are hoisted in the county of Tyrone
Three more good men lie butchered by the forces of the crown
We shed tears of grief and anger as the news spreads quickly round
How the SAS had waited and without warning gunned them down.

Now the green flag is wrapped around them
Gloves and berets on their chests
We salute three gallant soldiers
As we lay them down to rest.

On the road past Drumnakilly sorrow shrouds thae roadway still
There the Sas men lay in ambush to do Maggie Thatchers will
Like Loughall and like Gibralter British justice has no frills
They came to Tyrone for vengeance and their orders were to kill.

Now the green flag is wrapped around them
Gloves and berets on their chests
We salute three gallant soldiers
As we lay them down to rest.

Gerry and Martin Harte we've lost you we remember you with pride
You both had so much to live for now your dreams have been denied
Brian Mullin we shall miss you with your friendly smiling face
Though you died with your fond comrades in our hearts you hold the place

Now the green flag is wrapped around them
Gloves and berets on their chests
We salute three gallant soldiers
As we lay them down to rest.

Three brave volunteers are gone what is there left to say
It was Ireland's love that called them when they joined the IRA
So let thatcher send her murderers to the hills of gree Tyrone
It is she who will be mourning when we send her soldiers home.