On this Day of Days
Released 2013
Song tracks on the CD
1. Kishmul's Galley
2. The Fig Set
3. Tinkerman's Daughter
4. Sarah Daily/Wedding Reel
5. Lover's Ghost/Johnny's Wedding
6. Lucifer Sandwich Polkas
7. Welcome Paddy Home
8. Gartan Mother's Lullaby
9. Green Lily Set
10. Baby's First Laugh
11. Hard Times/Blind Mary
12. Loch Tay Boat Song
13. Hunting The Hare
14. Tip the Bottle
Track 1: Beann a’ Cheathaich (Kishmul's Galley)
High in the Beann a’ Cheathaich
On this day of days, seawards I gaze
Watching Kishmul’s galley sailin’
O hio, o ruo, O hio, O ru
Homeward she bravely battles
‘ gainst the hurtling waves
No hoop nor yards
Anchor, cable, nor tackle has she
O hio, O ruo, O hio, O ru
Onward, against and tide
She’s brought us here
Neath Kishmul’s walls
Kishmul’s castle of ancient glory
O hio, O ruo, O hio, O ru
There’s red wine
And a toast to heros
And harping too, and harping too
Kishmul’s castle of ancient glory
O hio, O ruo, O hio, O ru
High in the Beann a’ Cheathaich
On this day of days, seawards I gaze
Watching Kishmul’s galley sailin’
We learned this amazing song from the singing of Davy Holt, in Newtonmore, at the MacPherson Clan Center. He sang it for us after our concert there, and we were smitten with his version and the song all together!
The story if of ‘Una the Lonely’ who had suffered the three sorrows of a woman, having lost her parents, her husband and children. She went to the top of Beann a’ Cheathaich with plans of ending her life. While she watched the galley of Kishmul return from battle in sad form, fighting wind and wave to arrive at the castle safely she decided not to end her life. (collected by Mary Kennedy Frasier, early 20th cen.)
The castle of Kishmul or Kisimul stands on a little island-
There seems to be a translation issue, coupled with people's subjective impressions of what they think they have heard on commercial recordings. Many people mis-
Kennedy-
Kisimul sits on a rocky islet in the bay just off the coast of Barra, and as it is completely surrounded by the sea; it can only be reached by boat making the fortification impregnable. Kisimul has its own fresh water wells. Legend has it that this has been the stronghold of the MacNeils since the 11th century.
Kisimul was abandoned in 1838 when the island was sold, and the castle's condition deteriorated. In 2001 the castle was leased by the chief of Clan MacNeil to Historic Scotland for 1000 years for the annual sum of 1 pound and a bottle of whiskey. Kisimul (or Chisimul) Castle gets its name from the Gaelic words cìs (tax) and mul (mound) meaning "The place where taxes are paid".
Track 2: Em tunes
The first tune I learned so many years ago, that I have no idea what the name is, or perhaps I never knew? In the circle of traditional players in the Wild West, there is an expert at this kind of thing… Roger Landes of Santa Fe, NM. I contacted him, and the nearest he could come was possibly from the playing of Kerry accordion legend Johnny O'Leary, now sadly deceased. He thought the title to be ‘The Trooper’… but alas, no positive identification, so if YOU know, please drop us a line!! The second is from our Celtic Cowboy Christmas shows in the 90’s in Montana. A lovely slip jig called ‘Fig for a Kiss’. We’ve recorded in several other incarnations, but it just loved being side by side with ‘the Trooper’ and you must always let the tune have its way!
Track 3: Tinkerman’s Daughter
I was lucky enough to hear the great Irish singer Niamh Parsons, sing live back in 1994 in Donegal. I love her voice and have ‘borrowed’ several songs over the years that she brilliantly sings. This is from her repitoire. It is a difficult song to sing, with a wide range of scale. But the story is stunning! So I went in search of the composer, and found Mickey MacConnell! He states that the inspiration for this song came from a bet from his wife that he couldn’t make a song with the name of “Lyracrumpayne” A village they were passing through… so this song was born. I can’t believe it is that simple… what a powerful story! And of course we send him our deep condolences… because we had no way to properly pronounce the word… we changed it!! Sorry Mickey. After much study of ‘the travelers’, this story has even more meaning.
The small birds were lining the bleak autumn branches
Preparing to fly to a far distant shore
When the tinkers made camp at the bend in the river
Coming back from the horsefair in Ballinasloe
The harvest being over the farmer went walking
Along the Faele River that bordered his land
It was there he first saw her, twixt firelight and water
The Tinkerman’s daughter the Red Headed Ann
Next morning he rose from a night without resting
He went straight to the father and he made his case known
At a pub in Listowel they worked out the bargain
For the tinker a pony, for the daughter a home.
Where the trees peg their shadows along the Feale River
The tinker and the farmer inspected the land
And a white gelding pony was the price they agreed on
For the tinkerman’s daughter, the Red Headed Ann
The wedding soon over the tinkers departed
They were eager to travel on south down the road
But the crunch of the iron-
Were as bitter to her as the way she’d been sold
Yet she tried hard to please him, she did all his bidding
She slept in his bed and she worked on the land
But the walls of the cabin pressed tighter and tighter
On the tinkerman’s daughter, the Red Headed Ann
As white as the hands of the priest or the hangman
The snow spread its blanket the next Christmas round
When the tinkerman’s daughter got up from the bedside
Turned her back on the land and her face to the town
It was said someone saw her ere dusk that same evening
She was making her way out o’er Lyracrumpayne
But that was the last time the settled folk saw her
The tinkerman’s daughter, the Red Headed Ann
Where the North Kerry hills cup the Feale near Listowel
On a farm on its banks lives a bitter old man
And he swears by the shotgun he keeps at his bedside
Thant he’ll kill any tinker who camps on his land
But whenever he hears iron-
Or a horse in the shafts of a bright caravan
Then his days work’s tormented, his night’s sleep demented
By the tinkerman’s daughter, the Red Headed Ann
Track 4: Sarah Daly/Wedding Reel
Our best buddy Jim Schulz wrote this great song about cooper mining in Butte, Montana. At one time Butte had the largest population of Irish west of the Mississippi. The story is clever, but the irony might be lost to anyone not living in Montana… The mine was owned by Marcus Daly, and his daughter was ‘Sarah’.
Followed by the ‘Wedding Reel’ learned from Pat Japenga.
O’Brien was a Cavan Man, Magee from County Clare
And never in the country breathed such a motley pair
They lived in Butte Montana dug copper for their pay
Ate hard rock dust for dinner and scorned the light of day, day
Scorned the light of day
There lived a fair young maiden at the bottom of the mine
Her name was Sara Daly the boys liked her just fine
Her eyes were of the darkest brown, her lashes long and fair
Her legs were long and slender and chestnut was her hair, hair
Chestnut was her hair
Chorus:
Jack straw, knack-
Once more for Sara Daly where the sun don’t ever shine
Once more for Sara Daly where the sun don’t ever shine
O’Brien wooed the sweet young lass with tasty sugar lumps
Magee would often pass her by and pinch her on the rump
These miners sure smitten with that beautiful colleen
And tied silk ribbons in her hair red, yellow, blue and green, green
Yellow blue and green
One day there was a fire, 900 feet below, “get out!”
The foreman shouted and up the men did go
There were but 2 that stayed behind midst timbers and debris
“ We’ve got to get our Sara out!”, cried O’Brien and Magee, gee
Cried O’Brien and Magee
At the tipple of the head frame, the miners scrambled free
They hollered out, but found no sign of O’Brien and Magee
Through smoke so thick and sooty they searched the crowd in vane
“ They’re lost, they’re lost!” the foreman cried
We’ll not see them again, again,
We’ll not see them again
Now the miners all concluded, sure as the sun above
Magee and pal O’Brien were victims of their love
But when the dust had settled, stood a pair of Irish fools
O’Brien and Magee with arms wrapped round a ribboned mule, mule
Wrapped round a ribboned mule
Track 5: Lover’s Ghost/Johnny’s Wedding
Another song from the singing of Niamh Parsons. It took several listens of this song to get the full impact of the story. Only the Irish could tell this spooky situation in such fine fashion! I was carrying my harp out of its case, from the house to the recording studio, on a windy day… the magic of the sound of the wind in the strings, spurred us to just set it down, bring out a microphone, and let the wind and strings ‘play’ back up for the song. Johnny’s Wedding, is from the playing of Lynn Saoirse, All Ireland harp champion, and best Irish girlfriend!!
Track 6: ‘Lucifer Sandwich’ Polkas
We learned these from Brenda Hunter (of Banshee in the Kitchen fame). She tells the story that she learned these three polkas and only knew the name of the one in the middle “Lucy Farr’s”. But when she told people the name, they misunderstood her to say ‘Lucifer’s’… two unknown on either side, and you have… you guessed it…
Track 7: Welcome Paddy Home
Well, Ken has pestered me for years to do a ‘sing along’, but of all the bar songs, political songs, ‘Oirish’ drinking songs, etc… I’ve never heard one I would allow us to sing! Jimmy Schulz taught Ken this one, and while it has that ‘sway yer pint’ sound, I had to let him do it because I love those lads so much!!!
Track 8: Garten Mother’s Lullaby
I learned this song while pregnant with my third baby. I sang it to her for years… now it is recorded for all my babies and grandbabies. I never learned the third verse, but put it here for correctness. Also, I changed the pronunciation of ‘Aoibheall’ which should be ‘eeval’ to ‘ayval’, more like ‘Aoife’… to prevent any backlash from American’s who might think this a ‘devil’ song. For you sweet Sadie.
Sleep O babe, for the red bee hums the silent twilight's fall,
Aoibheall from the grey rock comes, to wrap the world in thrall.
A leanbhan O, my child, my joy, my love my heart's desire,
The crickets sing you lullaby, beside the dying fire.
Dusk is drawn and the Green Man's thorn is wreathed in rings of fog,
Siabhra sails his boat till morn, upon the Starry Bog.
A leanbhan O, the paly moon hath brimmed her cusp in dew,
And weeps to hear the sad sleep-
Faintly sweet doth the chapel bell, ring o'er the valley dim,
Tearmann's peasant voices swell, in fragrant evening hymn.
A leanbhan O, the low bell rings, my little lamb to rest,
And angel-
Aoibheall -
leanbhan -
Tearmann -
Siabra -
Track 9: Green Lily/Farrell O’Gara’s
The Green Lily we learned from Jimmy Schulz. It is an amazingly powerful tune, of French Canadian origin. Of course Jimmy taught it to us at warp speed… but we did our ‘funky thing’ and slowed it down. Sorry James… we’ll speed it up when you’re playing with us! Farrell O’Gara’s is most famous because of the film ‘Secret of Roan Inish’. It is the tune being played while the little girl is cleaning the cottage on the island, readying it for ‘her Jaimmie’!!!
Track 10: Baby’s First Laugh
While touring in New Mexico I picked up a book on Navajo Ceremonies. The one that leapt off the page at me, was called the ‘Baby’s first laugh’ ceremony. When a little baby is born, the family watches it carefully and when it laughs for the first time, they hold a feast and ceremony. The baby is the host, and the village comes to the home. The baby is held up for all to pass by and bless it for a long life of laughter. I thought it the most amazing idea, and wish we had more ceremonies for the things we take for granted… like laughing! I happened to have a new little grandbaby and asked my son to let me know when she laughed… I had to write a tune for that wondrous moment! It is now for all the babies!!!
Track 11: Blind Mary/Hard Times
Blind Mary is of the harp tradition of Turlough O’Carolan. Hard Times, seemed appropriate to re-
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,
While we all sup sorrow with the poor;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh hard times come again no more.
Chorus:
Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard Times, hard times, come again no more
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;
Oh hard times come again no more.
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,
There are frail forms fainting at the door;
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say
Oh hard times come again no more.
There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away,
With a worn heart whose better days are o'er:
Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day,
Oh hard times come again no more.
Track 12: Loch Tay Boat Song
This is such a lovely melody. Kenny did his magic on the lead overlay… brings such fond memories of Scotland.
Track 13: Hunting the Hare (Hela’r ‘Sgyfarnog)
Darci and I learned this Welsh song a dozen years ago. It was a fun way to pass the time driving our million miles through Montana to her voice lessons, and other endeavors. It started slower. Now that we are older and slower, the song has sped to insane speed. Considering we were both ill with colds and singing at 7,000 elevation, the gasps of air are not too bad!
O the yelping of hounds, the skelping,
Along the cover and out at the back!
O the galloping, O the walloping!
O the rush of the “gone away” Jack!
Off like a feather he floats on the heather-
Blackberry calling a tune in his track,
The Spot the Spider, and Beauty beside her,
Then Red Rake and the rest of the pack.
Well now they’ve lost him and now they’re finding him,
Now he’s winding them round by the stack!
Hark! The horn! To the height we follow ‘em,
Cheer and holler ‘em for’ard or back.
Ne’er such a frisker at fate cocked a whisker,
Or bustled us brisker, than yonder old Jack.
One more double across the stubble,
And he’s in trouble and tossed by the pack.
Bay and gray are away to the stable,
And jovial hunters the table attack;
Meat we’re munching and oats they’re crunching,
And pails they empty and bottles they crack.
Here’s to the master Non fairer non faster
To steady the ready or screw up the slack!
Here’s to the hunt! With our glasses a-
With joy commingle – and here’s to the pack
Track 14: Tip the Bottle Fill the Glass
Jimmy Schulz magic again. He tells the story of being in Ireland, and going into a pub to see Liam Clancy in among the locals. The crowd urged him on to ‘sing one’. He was aged and the last of the Clancy/Makem’s still alive. Jim says, he stood to sing and the room fell to silence in his honor. Jim went back to his room and thought about what that must be like to be the ‘last man standing’. And thought in true Irish fashion, it would be most appropriate to ‘tip the bottle, fill the glass, and drink to life’. Such a beautiful sentiment. We are nearly there ourselves.
Tip the bottle fill the glass
Raise it high to kin and class
Sing a song of times well spent
When we were young and devil bent
Drink to life and what shall pass… tip the bottle fill the glass
Music is his favorite wine
Pressed from a rare and rovin vine
That grows fair among the heather
And the wild mountain thyme
If you ramble in the spring
When white moths are on the wing
You can feel the winds of mornin’
You can hear the old man sing
The sun has set the day is done
A jug of punch a glass for one
A single figure stands alone
And toasts to all whose race is run
With each fading afternoon
You realize that all too soon
You have drifted into autumn
With the rising of the moon
