SINGING THE RIVER Walking with my uncle was never the ordinary process of of perambulation. in order to get from pt. A to pt. Z. We would sing our way west into the field as if to tame it soothe it with sound. On Carrigdhoun the heath is brown... wed sing to it ...the clouds are dark oer Ard-na-Lee. The grass listening with its thousand ears. And the field would swoon and fall down to the river at its border ( which as it happened ) was the real life river of the song ...to kiss the slumbering Own na Buidhe. As if we had sung it into existence. And we would roll ourselves down over and over until we arrived at its dizzy waters dangling our toes in pure song. And now( with a quick uncle wink ) Lets walk home....backwards! And backwards home wed go just for the laugh of it. The yes of it! Confusing cows and a few scattered clouds. Trees and hedges tiptoeing away from us. The five-bar gate with the sweetest wildest strawberries at its feet proclaiming: Is it mad... ...yare or....wot? And the next day off wed go walking eyes closed in a darkness of our own making to sing its song to the river the river chuckling over stones to itself. And the next next day would be backwards with eyes closed led along by our own laughter and the odd mystified moo. Farewell... wed tell the sleepy river ...farewell! leaving it dreaming in a sunset. Shhhhhh... shushed our footsteps shhhhhhs walking backwards, When Donal swore, aye oer and oer, Wed part no more a stór mo chroidhe. shhhhhhhhhhhh.....shhhhhhhhhhhh! shhhhhhhhhhhh.....shhhhhhhhhhhh! ....shhhhhhhhhhhh!youtu.be/grF7LpWYnG4 Carrigdhoun (Denny Lane) The heath was green on Carrigdhoun. Bright shone the sun oer Ard-na-Lee The dark green trees bent trembling down To kiss the slumbering Own na Buidhe. That happy day -- twas but last May -- Tis like a dream to me, When Donal swore, aye oer and oer, Wed part no more a stór mo chroidhe. On Carrigdhoun the heath is brown. The clouds are dark oer Ard-na-Lee, And many a stream comes rushing down To swell the angry Owen na Buidhe. The moaning blast is sweeping past Through many a leafless tree, And Im alone, for he is gone, My hawk has flown, ochone mo chroidhe. Soft April showers and bright May flowers Will bring the summer back again, But will they bring me back the hours I spent with my brave Donal then? Theres but a chance. hes gone to France To wear the Fleur-de-Lis. But Ill follow you, my Donal Dhu, For still Im true to you mo chroidhe. The song was originally called The Lament of the Irish Maiden and was written by Denny Lane from Cork. It is a political song telling of the flight from Ireland of Sarsfields Wild Geese in 1691. The air for Carrigdhoun was the inspiration for the music to the Percy French song The Mountains of Mourne.
Posted on: Thu, 26 Jun 2014 08:42:13 +0000
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