vrijdag 28 augustus 2015

Tønder Festival 2015

De enige trekharmonica die we op het Tønder Festival hebben kunnen scoren. Jamsessie in de Klein Dublin Bar op het Tønder Festival in Tønder Denemarken.

Tønder Festival, een prachtig festival voor folk muziek.

dinsdag 11 augustus 2015

Little Fishes tijdens de Eilandvijfdaagse

Little Fishes bij de Boerderij. Wandelaars en fietsers van de Eilandvijfdaagse passeren daar.
Gespeeld bij Paal 13 en bij De Boerderij in Ballum, terwijl de wandelaars en fietsers even uitpuffen en de lekkerste slagroomsoes van de Boerderij eten.

maandag 10 augustus 2015

Donegal Danny

Samenspelen met Johan in de tuin bij de Suudooster. Donegal Danny. Wordt vervolgd.

Tønder Festival

Het Tønder Festival is van 27 t/m 30 augustus en wij gaan er de 27e en 28e naar toen. International Folkfestival op de rand van de Waddenzee.
We gaan er over posten op Waddenpost en als het trekharmonica betreft ook hier.

Raglan Road

On Raglan Road of an autumn day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might one day rue
I saw the danger and I passed
Along the enchanted way
And said let grief be a fallen leaf
At the dawning of the day

On Grafton Street in November
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passion's pledge
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
And I not making hay
Oh I loved too much and by such by such
Is happiness thrown away

I gave her gifts of the mind
I gave her the secret signs
Known to the artists who have known
The true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint I did not stint
I gave her poems to say
With her own name there
And her own dark hair
Like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had loved not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay
He'll lose his wings at the dawn of day

Dicey Riley

Henry my Son


Red is the Rose

The Skillet Pot

Michael Grosvenor Myer sings a sentimental Irish song about childhood.

Where is James Connnolly

Andy Irvine - Where is our James Connolly?

vrijdag 7 augustus 2015

Arthur McBride

Paul Brady 1977  

Traditional. This one goes back to 1840s and was recorded by Planxty , Paul Brady and Bob Dylan. The first verion is by Andy Irvine with Plankty. all the other versions of the song are included here. The sheet music is below. Thanks to Marc Fahrbach for the chords for the Planxty version.

Long Version in G
I (G)had a first cousin called Arthur McBride
He and (C)I took a (G)stroll down (Am)by the sea(C)side;
(G)Seeking good fortune and (C)what might be(G)tide
It was just as the (Am)day was a'(C)daw(D)nin'
And (G)after restin' we (C)both took a (G)tramp
We (C)met Sergeant (G)Harper and (Am)Corporal (C)Cramp
Be(G)sides the wee drummer who beat up the camp
With his row-dee-(D)dow-dow in the (G)morning
He says my young fellows if you will enlist
A guinea you quickly will have in your fist
Besides a crown for to kick up the dust
And drink the King's health in the morning
For a soldier he leads a very fine life
He always is blessed with a charming young wife
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife
And always lives happy and charming
And a soldier he always is decent and clean
In the finest of garments he's constantly seen
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean
And sup on thin gruel in the morning
Says Arthur, I wouldn't be proud of your clothes
You've only the lend of them as I suppose
And you dare not change them one night or you know
If you do you'll be flogged in the morning
And although we are single and free
We take great delight in our own company
And we have no desire strange countries to see
Although your offer is charming
And we have no desire to take your advance
All hazards and danger we barter on chance
and you'd have no scruples to send us to France
Where we would be shot without warning
And now says the sergeant, if I hear but one word
I'll instantly now will out with my sword
And into your bodies as strength will afford
So now my gay devils take warning
But Arthur and I we took the odds
We gave them no chance to launch out their swords
Whacking shillelaghs came over their heads
And paid them right smart in the morning
As for the wee drummer, we rifled his pow
And made a football of his row-do-dow-dow
Into the ocean to rock and to roll
And bade it a tedious returnin'
As for the old rapier that hung by his side
We flung it as far as we could in the tide
To the Devil I pitch you, says Arthur McBride
To temper your steel in the morning

donderdag 6 augustus 2015

Lied van de Zee

Hier, los van het land
Los van gewicht
Laat ik me leiden

Hier, los van het woord
Dicht bij het geweld
Van alle tijden

Zo wild is je klank, zo rijk is je lied
Soms dring je tot me door
Soms hoor ik het niet

Hier, loodgrijs en grauw
Sta ik bij jou om te bekomen
Schuim, grijsgelig schuim
Wolken en zout
Reizen en dromen

Verlost van het woord, verlost van de zin
Er is geen houvast, er is geen begin

Hier, slaaf aan de rand
Zonder verstand, niets te verwachten

Zwijg, wandel en denk
Wandel, vergeet, duizend gedachten

The Boys of Blue Hill

Angus Polka

Dennis Murphy's Polka

The Jolly Tinker

 The Jolly Tinker
As I went down a shady lane, at a door I chanced to knock
"Have you any pots or kettles, with rusty holes to block?"
"Well indeed I have, don't you know I have
To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I have"

The misses came out to the door and she asked me to come in
"You're welcome jolly tinker and I hope you brought your tin"
"Well indeed I did, don't you know I did
To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I did"

She took me through the kitchen and she led me through the hall
And the servants cried "The devil, has he come to block us all
"Well indeed I have, don't you know I have
To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I have"

She took me up the stairs, me lads, to show me what to do
Then she fell on the feathery bed and I fell on it too
"Well indeed I did, don't you know I did
To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I did"

She then took out a frying pan and she began to knock
For to let the servants know, me lads, that I was at my work
"Well indeed I was, don't you know I was
To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I was"

She put her hand into her pocket and she pulled out twenty pounds
"Take that my jolly tinker and we'll have another round"
"Well, indeed we will, don't you know we will
To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed we will"

Well, I've been a jolly tinker for these forty years or more
But such a lovely job as that, I never did before
Well, indeed I didn't, don't you know I didn't...
To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I didn't"

Ye Yacobites by name

De tweede samenspeelsessie met Johan en dan komt dit eruit: Ye Yacobites by name.

dinsdag 4 augustus 2015

The Foggy Dew

Sinead O'Connor & The Chieftans.

The Foggy Dew

Luke Kelly Singing The Foggy Dew {1966}for German television called "Irland - Lieder für Träumer, Musik für Rebellen" which translates to "Ireland - Songs for dreamers, music for rebels".
The Foggy Dew was written by Canon Charles O`Neill in 1919.

As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I
There Armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by
No fife did hum nor battle drum did sound it's dread tatoo
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell rang out in the foggy dew

Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud El Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dew

But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide in the springing of the year
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew

The Rare Ould Times

Raised on songs & stories, heroes of renown
The passing tales & glories that once was Dublin town
The hallowed halls & houses, the haunting childrens' rhymes
That once was Dublin city in the rare ould times

Ring a ring a rosie, as the light declines
I remember Dublin city in the rare ould times

My name it is Sean Dempsey, as Dublin as can be
Born hard & late in Pimlico, in a house that ceased to be
By trade I was a cooper, lost out to redundancy
Like my house that fell to progress, my trade's a memory

And I courted Peggy Dignan, as pretty as you please
A rogue & a child of Mary, from the rebel liberties
I lost her to a student chap with a skin as black as coal
When he took her off to Birmingham, she took away my soul


The years have made me bitter, the gargle dims me brain
'Cause Dublin keeps on changing & nothing seems the same
The Pillar & the Met have gone, the Royal long since pulled down
As the great unyielding concrete makes a city of my town


Fare thee well sweet Anna Liffey, I can no longer stay
& watch the new glass cages, that spring up along the quay
My mind's too full of memories, too old to hear new chimes
I'm part of what was Dublin in the rare ould times


The Trawling Trade

The Broadside from Grimsby, about time they got some tunes on here, if anyone has decent copies of there songs on MP3 or album art please drop me a line.

The Trawling Trade
John Conolly

North to the Faeroe Islands, South to the coast of Spain-
West with the whaling fleet, and off to the pole again-
Over the world of water, seventeen seas I've strayed-
Now to the north I'm sailing, back to the trawling trade.
Come, ye bold seafaring men, there's fortunes to be made -
In the trawling trade.

Back to the midnight landings, back to the fish dock smell,
back to the frozen wind, as hard as the teeth of hell,
Back to the strangest game that ever a man has played.
Follow the stormy rollers, back to the trawling trade.
Come, ye bold seafaring men, there's fortunes to be made -
In the trawling trade.

Down with your trawling tackle, down with your nets and gear
Wait for the winches winding, wait for the deckies cheer.
Up with the shining harvest, glittering silver-sprayed -
Down to the decks below to pay, pay for the trawling trade.
Come, ye bold seafaring men, there's fortunes to be made -
In the trawling trade.

Home with a harvest wind, and back to the Humber tide;
Run to the starboard rail and leap to the waterside -
Roll with a roaring bunch of fishermen newly-paid -
Down to the dockside pubs and drink to the trawling trade.

Come, ye bold seafaring men, there's fortunes to be made -
In the trawling trade.

The yellow haired laddie


The yellow haired laddie

From "In Concert" by The Livingstones, which was released in 1968. Members include Ken McKay, Frank McKay, David McCabe and John Dempsey.
The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe
The clansmen are arming to rush on the foe
Their banners are streaming as forth leaves the clan
And the yellow haired laddie is first in the band

The pibroch is kindling their hearts to the war
Camerons slogans are heard from afar
They close for the struggle where many shall fall
And the yellow haired laddie is the foremost of all

He towers on the wave like a wild rolling tide
No kinsman of valiance will stand by his side
The Camerons gather around him alone
He heeds not the danger and fear is unknown

The plumes o' his bonnet are seen in the fight
Those beacons of valour they light with his sight
But his sword and his claymore are greater distressed
For the plumes o' his bonnet now lie in the dust

The maidens are weeping in rocky Glencoe
From warriors' eyelids those bitter tears flow
Where tell me where is our chieftain so dear?
And the yellow haired laddie lies low on the brae