This Thin Place
Two Award Winning Songs:
Track 2: Agahadoe, won 2nd place in the 2005 Milwaukee Irish Festival/Walton’s of Dublin New Irish International Songwriting Competition.
Track 8: Silkworm’s Flight, won 2nd place in the 2006 Milwaukee Irish Festival/Walton’s of Dublin New Irish International Songwriting Competition.
Ken Willson: vocals, guitars, bouzouki, bass
Kim McKee: vocals, harp, accordion, hammered dulcimer, keyboards, bodhran, hand drums,
bodhran, guitars and cake pan
Guest Musicians: Daughter Darci: vocals Janet Haarvig: cello Al Cantrell: fiddle Pat Japenga: Irish flute
Recorded: Bomb Shelter Studio, Colorado Springs, CO
Engineering/mixing/mastering: Ken Willson
Art & Graphics: “Our Hero” Lahri Bond, Heartswork Graphics: lahribondgraphics.com
Editing: Charlotte French
All songs written by Kim McKee except where noted. Tinker’s Coin – Jack Hardy Music/BMI
Arrangements: Willson & McKee
Acknowledgements: We have decided that our hearts are transparent. Every place we travel seems like home and everyone we meet is our family and we are always longing to return to everyone, everywhere. Maybe that’s what makes us “road warriors” having attachments in myriads of places rather than just one. Our chosen work has given us more than we ever imagined, through landscapes and livingrooms. Parents, children, old friends, new friends and those we have yet t omeet on this wonderful musical journey… THANK YOU!! You are the “home” of our constant movement!
The duo’s mix of sophisticated and poetic lyrics, delivered with diverse instrumentation and great vocal blend, really connects with audiences. McKee’s lyrics are traditional with a modern swirl and exciting dashes of fresh ideas and precision delivery.
Guest musicians on this outing include Montana cellist Janet Haarvig and fiddler
Al Cantrell of the Cantrells. Pat Japenga is featured on Irish flute and daughter Darci adds harmonies to several tracks. The many instruments Willson & McKee command include accordion, bass, bodhran, bouzouki, guitar, hammer dulcimer, keyboards and would you believe, cake pan?
… another rewarding collection!!!
Scott Prinzing, Lively Times
Mormond Braes (trad.)
Mormond Hill lies some 45 miles north of Aberdeen. At the foot of which lies the small town of Strichen. I love the response to lost love: there’s more where that came from! We learned Johnny’s Gone to France/Ice on the Road from the Celtic Cowboy’s in Montana, the only place where these rhythmic deviations are allowed.
As I cam’ in by Strichen toon one misty mornin’ early
I heard a lassie sair lament for her true love no returnin’
Fare ye weel ye Mormond Braes far aft times I’ve been cheery
Far ye weel ye Mormond Braes ‘twas there I lost my dearie
So I’ll pit on a goon o’ green, it’s ae forsaken token
Tae tell the ladies roon aboot that the bonds o’ love are broken
There’s mony’s a horse hae snappert and fa’an and risen again fu’ rarely
Mony’s a laddie’s lost his love and gotten anither richt early
So I’ll gang back tae Strichen toon far I was bred and born in
I’ll get me anither lad will marry me in the morning
Aghadoe (McKee)
Acha D’a Eo is Irish Gaelic for “The Field of the Two Yews”. It is in County Kerry over looking Lough Leane and the Macgillycuddy Reeks. A round tower dates to the 7th century, and Oghm stones from pre-
On one of Kerry’s fine bright days
I went among the stones to pray
And tarry with the ones who lay
Asleep in Aghadoe
The wind from off “The Reeks” did blow
And mingled with the birdsong so
That keening as of long ago
Was heard in Aghadoe
A muffled song came from the deep
So I wandered to the hole to seek
The bidding of the one who keeps
The graves of Aghadoe
Skin shimmering in the morning sun
He told the stories of many a one
He’d lain to rest, their journey done
Here in Aghadoe
He spoke of youth, when he’d come here
To bury his wife thru burning tears
But he could not leave her all these years
Alone in Aghadoe
So since that day, it’s here he stays
To work with love his silver spade
And sing to those he gently lays
To rest in Aghadoe
No bitterness or anger found
Where he stood there in holy ground
But his tenderness it did surround
The souls of Aghadoe
For those who come to this “thin place”
Who hear his voice and see his face
You’ll understand his loving embrace
Of the earth here in Aghadoe
Now when my time has come to leave
This world of sorrow, do not grieve
For there is one who’ll sing with me
On the hill in Aghadoe
BOGIE'S BONNIE BELLE (trad)
This is a song from the Bothy Ballad tradition, the young men who worked the large farms of the lairds. Decades ago I learned the traditional version of this song which tells the young man’s point of view. I reflected on the heartbreak of the young woman’s untold story, and decided to tell both sides. It’s still tragic, but I wanted a spark of passion to linger so I added the last verse to bring a smile at the continuation of love itself. Because I am a believer in the folk process, the first lyrics are mine. Then because I’m a believer in the traditions that gave me the song, the second set is the original.
Boy:
One summer’s day in Huntly town, twas there I did agree
With Bogie O’Cairnie, to 6 months for a fee
Girl:
To drive our two best horses to cart ‘n harry n’ plough
It was the only thing about farm work that he very well knew how
Boy:
Now Bogie he had a daughter and her name was Isabelle
She was the lily of the valley and the primrose of the dell
Girl:
That summer when I went walking, I chose him for my guide
Down by the pond O’Cairnie to watch the small fish glide
Boy:
When 6 months it had passed and gone this lassie lost her bloom
Aye the red fell fae her rosy cheeks and her tears came tumblin’ down
Girl:
And when 9 long months had passed and gone I brought forth to him a son
Oh and he was quickly sent for to see what could be done
Boy:
Now I offered for to marry her but for Bogie that would nae do
He said yer no’a match for my Bonnie Bell and she’s no’a match for you
Girl:
Then he sent him packin’ down the road, not a penny for his fee
So farewell my love from Huntly town a long farwell to thee
Boy:
Now she’s married to a tinker chap, wha’ comes from Huntly town
With his pots and pans and ladles, he scours the country round
Girl:
And I’ve not got a better match, oh dear Bogie can you tell
For you sent away the one who holds the heart of your Bonnie Bell
Boy:
So Bogie you had the final word when you sent me on my way
But you cannot stop the beating heart on a bright warm summer day
Girl:
And when I look into the eyes of the small one at my side
Oh I see the face of the handsome lad who took me by surprise
Both:
One summer day in Huntly town, twas there I did agree
Original Version:
As I gaed in by Huntley toon, yin morning for tae fee
I fell in wi' Bogie o' Cairnie and wi' him I did agree
Tae ca' his twa best horses, or cairt or [ferry] a ploo' 1
(Tae work the twa best horses in either cairt or ploo') 2
(Tae drive his twa best horses, likewise his cairt and ploo') 3
Or dae onything aboot fairmwork I very well could do.
Now Bogie had a daughter, and her name was Isabelle
She was the flower o' the valley and the primrose o' the dell
And when she gaed oot walkin', she chose me for her guide
Down by the burn o' Cairnie, tae watch sma' fishes glide 4
The first three months being past and o'er, this lassie lost her bloom
An' the red fell frae her rosey cheeks and her eyes began to swoon
When nine long months were past and gane, she brought forth tae me a son
And I was quickly called for tae see what could be done
I said that I would marry her but no, that wudna do
For, "You're no' a match for ma bonnie Belle, an' she's no' a match for you"
Well now she's married tae a tinkler chiel, wha bides in Huntley toon
He mends pots and pans and paraffin lamps, an' he scours the country roon
Aye, an' maybe she's gotten a better lad; auld Bogie canna tell
So fareweel ye lads o' Huntlyside and Bogie's bonnie Belle
Cavanaugh’s March to the Coffee Cup/Winston & McCoy (Schulz)
Our musical soul friend Jim Schulz of Helena, Montana penned both tunes. The first in honor of Mick Cavanaugh the brilliant whistle player from Butte who seems to exist on coffee and Irish tunes only! The second is the name of our alter ego band, who will be appearing in all the ‘animal clubs’ (Moose, Elks, Eagles, etc) after we reach our golden age of music retirement and are required to play only old country and western songs! Thanks Jimmy…
Long Shadows (McKee)
There is a softness that brings peace at the ending of day and the ending of night. The “Thresholds” between them, when the sun’s light is horizontal are my favorite hours. Those moments when dawn and dusk share the same gentle appearance.
When the changing of the guard takes place
In long shadows see my face
When they streak across the dreams
Of a dying night
Shimmering on your tears in the golden light
When the changing of the guard takes place
In long shadows see my face
When they drape the sharpest edges
Of a brittle day
Turning cliffs of stone into amber clay
When the changing of the guard takes place
In long shadows see my face
When the muted half-
Between the night and day
I will wrap you in my languid rays
When the changing of the guard takes place
In long shadows see my face
Only in the seamless calm
Where day and night run on
In that fleeting moment we are one
Beautiful Man (McKee)
I love to watch people’s hands while they work. From my Grandmother’s gnarled hands stitching tiny quilt stitches to my father’s hands working on racecar engines. From Kenny’s hands as he builds yet another home from remnants of nothing, to my favorite man of the heard Dave, branding cattle. And yes Dave any good Montana cattleman knows that the beasts are black and not amber… but it didn’t rhyme.
Beautiful man of the land
Come give me your hands
Riddled with stories and scars
Of the soil whispering its readiness for seed
And the gathering
The gathering of golden grain
Beautiful man of the sea
Come give me your hands
Riddled with stories and scars
Of the dancing with nets upon the swell
And the gathering
The gathering of silver fish
Beautiful man of the herd
Come give me your hands
Riddled with stories and scars
Of coaxing calves to be born on winter nights
And the gathering
The gathering of amber beasts
Chorus
I’ll hold those beautiful hands
And I’ll remember with you
For those hands held the worry of the world
One story
One scar at a time
Beautiful man of the woods
Come give me your hands
Riddled with stories and scars
Of the saw and the falling of a tree
And the gathering
The gathering of honeyed wood
Beautiful man of the tune
Come give me your hands
The Tinker's Coin (Jack Hardy)
A song from the pen of the great Jack Hardy, a companion piece to “The King’s Shilling” Sidhe (pron. Shee) is the Irish word for faerie.
Come all ye lads and lasses near
A story I will tell to you
About a cold damp night like this
When shelter I was seeking
A traveler passing through
The barkeep said to guard my coin
To stay away from this tinker
But that just brought me near to him
For naught had I worth taking
A traveler passing through
Well he bought me glass of darkened stout
To thank me for my company
And he dropped a penny in the glass
For the luck that it would bring to me
A traveler passing through
The poor have but their pennies left
The king his saxon shilling
The king would never part with his
Though I part with lime most willing
To a traveler passing through
chorus:
This coin's been haunted by the sidhe
It shall bring you joy or bring you grief
Depending on the works you do
What once was mine now belongs to you
To a traveler passing through
And we passed the night most forcefully
I sang my songs and his to me
And we talked of life's brief song to sing
Of visions we'd forsaken
As travelers passing through
And the barkeep said it's time with scorn
Your man here will be your undoing
They will lock you up as sure as you are born
If they hear the songs you're singing
A traveler passing through
Well they can lock me up as best they can
Yet songs can never know those chains
The song is sacred as the wind
We are just the harp that's singing
A traveler passing through
And later in a highland pub
With friends around me singing
I chanced to glance into my glass
At another penny shining
A traveler passing through
Silk Worm’s Flight/The Silkworm (McKee)
This little conversation actually took place in the ancient oak woods of Derrycunnaghy, in Killarney National Park, in May of 2005. The author understands that the insect involved was not a silkworm, but poetically, an ordinary “Irish caterpillar”, just didn’t do the song justice. He was, in fact flying, and he did in fact teach me a very valuable lesson, making him extra special, thus dubbing him a majestic “silkworm”.
The tune at the end is also original, written to accompany the song, a slip jig of the same title, “The Silkworm”.
This day I took all my desires
To Derrycunnaghy
To linger in the lush pure love
That’s present in the trees
I lay beside the murmuring stream
And closed my eyes to hear
The vivid conversations
Of this bless-
When nothing but my breathing
Was given as a prayer
I slowly opened up my eyes
And what was dangling there
A silk worm floating on the breeze
Adrift from branches high
I greeted him with fondness
And asked him by and by
“How is your day you gentle one?
And how, came you by here?”
He twisted round and floated down
Nearer to my ear
He said “This day I’m flying,
Amid the scented air…
I’m flying free, and sad to see
You, heavy, sitting there!”
“Dear creature I must tell you
That you are not so free!
For the finest strand of silken thread
Keeps you tethered to this tree!
Your heart it may be dancing
And your spirit it may soar,
But you my friend are fastened tight
To this earth and so much more!”
The sadness in his countenance
I was ashamed to see
For I had brought this news to one
Who had thought himself so free
When of his plight he was aware
His thoughts did turn to me
And rising high upon the wind
He began to speak
“I may be but a dreamer here
Caught on silk and breeze
But I will not look back upon
A life I did not seize
You came here as the lumbering one
Upon the forest floor
But the fear of flying and of death
Will bind you even more”
My plans and schemes have kept me bound
And I thought I knew the way
But when they ask me “Did you fly?”
What will I have to say?
And so I was the heavy one
As I took myself away
But silkworm’s flight has left its mark
On all my weighted days
Adders in the Heather (McKee)
Hiking in the Highlands of Scotland, I found the perfect place to lie in the heater. There I was, dry blue sky above me, soft brown heather cradling me, powerful mountain beneath me, and peaceful bliss abounding. It was a t the end of this beautiful sojourn when I noticed the sign: “BEWARE OF ADDERS”. The bass sound beneath the tune, is actually a bass guitar setting on my hammer dulcimer stand, and I’m playing it with hammers.
King’s Shilling (trad.)
I first heard this song from the singing of Frank Hart at a festival in 1994. It wasn’t until I read an article written by a young female soldier just home from the current war, that I felt moved to record it. Her message and her experiences came from a place of power. However… “the shilling didn’t seem much worth the war”. This is for all of them, in every country in every war. If only we could find a better way.
Oh my love did leave me with bairns twa
And that’s the last of him I ever saw
He joined the army and marched to war
He took the shilling
He took the shilling
And he’s off to war
Come laddies come, hear the cannons roar
Take the King’s shilling and you’re off to war
Fine did he look as he marched along
With his kilt and sporran and his musket gun
And the ladies tipped him as he marched along
He sailed out by
He sailed out by
The Broomielaw
Oh the pipes did play as he marched along
And the soldiers sang out a battle song
“ March on, march on” cried the Captain gay
“ For King and country
For King and country
We will fight today”
The battle rattled to the sound of guns
And the bayonets flashed in the morning sun
And the drums did beat and the cannons roared
And the shilling didn’t seem
No the shilling didn’t seem
Much worth the war
The men did fight and the men did fall
Cut down by bayonets and musket ball
And many of these brave young men
Would never fight for
Would never fight for
The King again
Corner House/Spootaskerry (trad)
We took the traditional ‘Corner House’ and floated it in a sea of naugahyde, ready for the “Tiki Room”. A ‘spoot’ refers to the spout of water rising in rough seas over a ‘skerry’, a partially submerged rock. This is what happens when swing chords run away with Shetland dance tunes… a cake pan rhythm shows up.
The Wells of Wearie (trad.)
The “Wells” are near Duddingston Loch where clothes washing took place. Certainly a place a princess should never have been in the first place! The modern version of dragging main with a stranger to the wrong side of town! The ringing of the “common bell” was a way of sounding alarm and this woman clearly deserved to draw attention to her victory!
There came a bird oot o a bush
On water for tae dine
An sighing said this lady fair
‘ oh woe’s this heart o mine!’
And he’s ta’en a harp intae his had
And he’s harped them all asleep
Except it was the King’s daughter
Who couldna get a wink
And he’s mounted on his berry-
Ta’en her behind himsel’
And on they rode to that water
That they call Wearie’s Well
‘ Wide in, wide in, my lady fair
Nae harm shall ye befa’
For oftimes hae I watered my steed
At the water o Wearie’s Well’
And the very first step that stepped in
She stepped in unto the knee
And sighing said this lady fair
‘ This water’s nae for me’
‘ Wide in, wide in, my lady fair
Nae harm shall ye befa’
For oft times hae I watered my steed
At the water o Wearie’s Well’
And the very next step that she stepped in
She stepped in to the chin
And crying said this lady fair
‘ I fear I’m too far in!’
‘ Seven King’s daughters have I drowned here
At the water o Wearie’s Well
And I’ll mak ye the eighth o them
And I’ll ring the common bell”
‘ If I am standing here’, she said
‘ This dowie death tae dee
A kiss from o yer comely lips
I’m sure would comfort me’
So he’s mounted ower his saddle bow
To kiss her cheek and chin
And she’s ta’en him in her airms twa
And she’s thrown him headlong in
‘ Seven King’s daughters have ye drowned here
At the water o Wearie’s Well
I’ll make ye bridegroom tae them all
And I’ll ring the bell myself
Wizened Warrior (McKee)
I visited the lake’s edge to calm some current stress, and the water seemed to be dancing in agitated spines matching my restless state. A blink of the sun( a red tailed hawk flying over) made me flinch, and I realized that my life ahs been a series of battles; most of my own making, our biggest enemy is within ourselves. . That very moment represented an intense desire to end all conflict, to find a peaceful existence with the world around me, and the world within… To bad it takes most of our short life to “turn away”!
A thousand silver swords
Glint upon the water
And the warrior knows
A battle looms ahead
Bristled on his neck
Are the hairs that rise to tell him
There’s a thin-
Between his life and death
The wingtips of the soaring hawk
Flash shadows on the weary
All the battles ever fought
Are aching in his bones
Somewhere along his journey
Youth’s passion has gone bleary
And the wizened warrior turns away
The memory of enemies
Creep into his dreaming
And the vision of his battlefields
Never fades from sight
The beads of sweat, the blinking lash
The cold stare of the desperate
The foul breath upon his face
Makes him restless in the night
He’s fought with blinded bravery
But this fight will be different
Nothing has prepared him
For the thing that he must do
The enemy before him now
Knows no fear or danger
His soul will not release him
Till there’s nothing left to lose
If he could tell the young man
Of the stench and of the horrors
If he could only find the words
The young heart to persuade
He’d say the greatest battle
Will come when life is dimming
And you finally find the strength
To turn yourself away
When Next We Meet (McKee)
When hugging someone, the other person’s heart lies against the right side of your chest, where your heart is NOT… and yours against theirs, both filling the space. After a series of bizarre events taking family and friends, I realized that any simple moment could be the last time to hold a dear soul. So hug often with power and passion.
When next we meet
With glad embrace
Each other’s heart
Will fill the space
And sighs of tenderness
Replace
The furrowed brow
That distance makes
The place where
You and I began
Will hold us
In a calloused hand
For work and weather
Chafe away
A weaker love
That will not stay
Like soldiers brave
We march away
And face the battles
Of each day
It’s fearless love
That seems to know
In desperate days
Do not let go
This Thin Place
Released 2006
1. Mormond Braes
2. Aghadoe
3. Bogie's Bonnie Belle
4. Cavanaugh's March to the
Coffeecup / Winston & McCoy
5. Long Shadows
6. Beautiful Man
7. The Tinker's Coin
8. Silkworm's Flight
9. Adders in the Heather
10. King's Shilling
11. Corner House/Spootaskerry
12. The Wells of Wearie
13. Wizened Warrior
14. When Next We Meet
