04 Domhnall na Greine

Micho Russel indicated the Gaelic title of the song translated literally as 'Daniel of the Stroke', referring to someone with sunstroke. It was a fiary tune, said Micho, and told the sotry of a man who lived in a small thatched house by the side of the road. The man became very ill, but was able to rise and happened to go out to the road one night where he met a stranger who inquired after his health. The man replied that he was indeed very sick and 'I cannot get any better'. The stranger said that if he was able to play this tune until morning he should be alright, and proceeded to lilt a tune which was listened to very carefully. Upon returning to his dwelling, the man practised the tune on his old tin whistle, and sure enough, by morning's light his sickness was gone.

The song appears in Sean O Dalaigh's Poets and Poetry of Munster (1849), though not usually sung to the version Breathnach gives. Breathnach says it is apparently in priase of Dhonal na Greine, though 'it is a complete pretence'. He remarks that in districts in which Irish was formerly spoken a common lilt survives, which goes:

'Donall ar meisce is a bhen ag ol uisce is na leanai ag beicigh, na leanai ag beicigh'
'Donal drunk and his wife drinking water and the children roaring and the children roaring'

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkycbufVxQs

https://myspace.com/doimnic/music/song/donal-na-greine.wav-80898986-89131554

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBIpdluoCtM

Commoradh a's froilic thug Domhnall a Bhalas
Do Dhomhnall na Greine, cleasaidhe go treaethach,
'A mbeadh se seachtmhain i dtoigh-leanna Racain,
Cha dtiocfadh a'n neal air, s' b'annamh dithcheille air.

D'olfadh se a dtuillfeadh se 'sa thuilleadh a ngeobhadh se;
B'fheirrde toigh'n oile, a'sgabhfadh se ceol doibh,
Le feabhas a chuideachta mheallfad se an iomadaigh,
Cailini oga, diomhaoin as posta.

Domhnall na Greine, giolla na peite,
'Gcuala tu a leitheid d'alpurnach treitheach;
Leigheasfadh se cailleach air phlupadh 'siar chasachtaigh
A's gan teannadh uirthi acht smeideadh.

Bhiodh Domhnall 'gol leanna a's e fhein 'ga ceannach
Gan deoin na mbrather daonnai gan naire;
Dhafadh si pistear a shuidhfeadh sa chistinigh
A's a choinneochadh Genebha a d'olfadh na ladies.

Bhiodh Domhnall air meisce 'sa bhean ag ol uisce,
Domhnall na Greine, giolla na peite.
Plucadh 'sa placadh o neoin go dti maidin,
Mala mor mairte, sin samhail a mheadail.

Ba liomhtha a teanga i mBearla gus Laidin,
Scriobhfadh se Gaodhlag, Dutch agus breaga,
Le neart is a dhochar gur sharuigh se an domhan;
Sin chugaibh cuid treartha Domhnall na Greine.

Biodh poll air a hata, gus smal air a leine,
Ranntoir a's toitire, Domhnall na Greine

Raifteiri

There were 9 children in his family. When he was only 9 years old an outbreak of smallpox hit his household. In a short space of time his brothers and sisters were dead and he was left blind. It is said that the last thing he saw was his 8 siblings laid out for burial.

03 Cill Aodàin

Cill Aodàin

Raftery the Poet was blind from childhood and spent his life playing tunes on the fiddle, creating and singing songs as he wandered the West of Ireland. Born in Killeden, near Kiltimagh in East Co. Mayo, around 1779, Raftery would lead a nomadic existence, much of it in the Loughrea area of Co. Galway, where he died in 1835. He is buried near Craughwell.

Born Antaine O Raifteri, Raftery the Poet is thought to have been the only survivor among nine siblings who were struck down with smallpox when he was around 6 years of age. Blinded by the disease, Raftery became a servant, perhaps a stable hand, of the local landlord, Taffe of Kiltimagh. He remained in employment there until, it is said, he was thrown out after an acident in which one of the landlord's favourite horses died. Blind, he joined what would certainly have been many others at the time forced to wander the countryside trying to eke out a living by playing music and singing ballads. Of his type, it is often said that he became dependant on the generosity of those hardly better off than himself.

A poet of the people he met and heard about along his travels, Raftery's poetry is about the events of his time and reflect the views of the common people of the West of Ireland. He lived through the 1798 Rebellion and the 1800 Act of Union and would have been acutely aware of landlords (often absentee) charging high rents to pauper tenants. Raftery sang of the activities of those who agitated for reasonable rents and security of tenure for peasant farmers.

Cill Aodáin (traid.)

Anois teacht an earraigh, beidh 'n lá dul chun síneadh
'S tar éis na Féil' Bríde, ardóidh mé mo sheol,
Ó chuir mé 'mo cheann é ní stopfaidh mé choíche
Go seasfaidh mé síos i lár Chontae Mhaigh Eo.
I gClár Chlainne Mhuiris bheas mé an chéad oíche,
'S i mBalla taobh thíos de thosós mé ag ól,
Go Coillte Mach rachad go ndéanfad cuairt mhíos' ann
I bhfogas dhá míle do Bhéal an Áth' Móir

Fágaim le huacht é go n-éiríonn mo chroíse
Mar éiríonn an ghaoth nó mar scaipeann an ceo,
Nuair 'smaoíním ar Cheara nó ar Ghailleang taobh thíos de,
Ar Sceathach a Mhíl' nó ar phlánaí Mhaigh Eo.
Cill Aodáin an baile a bhfásann gach ní ann,
Tá sméara 's sú craobh ann, is meas ar gach sórt,
'S dá mbeinn-se 'mo sheasamh i gceartlár mo dhaoine
D'imeodh an aois díom is bheinn arís óg.

Now coming of the Spring, the day will be lengthening,
And after St.Bridget's Day, I shall raise my sail.
Since it enterest my head I won't stay still
Until I shall stand down in the centre of County Mayo.
In Claremorris I will be for the first night,
And in Balla down below it, I'll begin to drink.
To Kiltimagh I'll go and spend a month's visit there
Two miles cole to Ballina.
I swear to you my heart's uplifted
Like the rising wind or the drifting fog
When I think of Ceara or Gailleang behind it
Of Milebush or the plains of Mayo.
Cill Aodain's the town where everything grows,
There's berries and raspberries, and respect for all
If only I was standing in the midst of my people
The years would roll from me and I'd be young again!

An Fuiseog Rough

Colm's idea for this song is to have 3 male voices sing together......here's a video of one of the vocalists, Caoimhin, doing a rough acoustic version.........

02 An Fuiseog

This song is about a lark - a small melodious bird which is native to Ireland.The lark, or the symbol of the lark, is linked to freedom, freedom of a person and freedom of thought and expression. In English one might hear the expression 'to lark about' or 'larking around' which generally leans to have fun or have the craic in a joyful, innocent manner.

The lark in mythology and literature stands for daybreak, as in Chaucer's "The Kight's Tale":

'the bisy larke, messager of day'

and Shakespeare's sonnet 29:

'the lark at break of day arising,
from sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate'

The lark is also associated with 'lovers and lovers observance' and with 'church services' (Sylvester & Roberts, 2000), and often those meanings of daybreak and religious reference are combined (in Blake's Visions of the Daughters of Albion, into a 'spiritual daybreak' (Blaine & Blaine, 1986) to signify 'passage from Earth to Heaven and from Heaven to Earth' (Stevens, 2001). In Renaissance painters such as Domenico Ghirlandaio the lard symbolises Christ, in reference to John 16:16 (Cadogan, 2000). There is also a famous Irish tune called 'The Lark in the Morning'.

"My grandfather once said that the imprisonment of the lark is a crime of the greatest cruelty because the lark is one of the greatest symbols of freedom and happiness. He often spoke of the spirit of the lark relating to a story of a man who incarcerated one of hise loved friends in a small cage" 
Bobby Sands

http://www.birdwatchireland.ie/IrelandsBirds/Larks/Skylark/tabid/1100/Default.aspx

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWoIfgXEt6o

Waiting on translation and exact lyrics for the song......

Cul an Ti Rough

Very rough early version of Cul an Ti

https://soundcloud.com/tobarancheoil/cul-an-ti-aris

Cúl an Tí Lyrics

Cul an Ti

Ta Tir na nOg ar chul an ti,

Tir alainn trina chéile,

Lucht cheithre chos ag suil na sli,

Gan broga orthu na leine,

Gan Bearla acu na Gaeilge.

Ach fasann cloca ar gach droim,

Sa tir seo trina cheile,

Is labhartar teanga ar chul a’ti,

Nar thuig aon fhear ach Aesop,

Is ta se siud sa chre anois.

Ta cearca ann is al sicin,

Is lacha righin mhothaolach,

Is gadhar mor dubh mar namhaid sa tir,

Ag drannadh le gach einne,

Is cat ag cru na greine.

Sa chuinne thiar ta banc dramhail,

Is iontaisi an staoil ann,

Coinnleoir, bucali, seanhata tui,

Is trumpa balbh neata,

Is citeal ban mar ghé ann.

Is ann a thagann tinceiri,

Go naofa, trina cheile,

Ta gaol acu le cul a’ ti,

Is bid ag iarraidh deirce

Ar chul gach ti in Eirinn.

Ba mhaith liom bheith ar chul a’ti

Sa doircheacht go deanach

Go bhfeicinn ann ar cuairt gealai

An t-ollaimhin sin Aesop

Is e in phuca leannta.

The Back of the House

At the back of the house is the land of youth,

A jumbled beautiful space among,

The farmyard beasts, unclothed, unshod,

Nor knowing the Irish or English tongue,

Walking the way.

Yet each one grows an ample cloak,

Where chaos is the heart of rule,

And in that land the language spoke

Was taught of old in Aesop’s school,

Long passed away.

Some hens are here, a chicken clutch,

A simple duck, though fixed of mind,

A big black dog with wicked looks

Barking loud like a good watch-hound,

A cat sun-baking;

There, a heap of bric-a-brac,

The cast-off treasure stuff of life,

A candlestick, buckles, an old straw hat,

A bugle quiet, and a kettle white,

Like a goose waking.

Here the tinkers come uncouth,

Blessing generously all they see,

Feeling at home in the land of youth,

Seeking cast-off things for free,

All over Ireland.

I would go back in the dead of night,

The treasure gilded in the moonbeams’ reach,

Perhaps to see in the eerie light,

The child-wise Aesop’s phantom teach,

His ghostly learning.