De tweede samenspeelsessie met Johan en dan komt dit eruit: Ye Yacobites by name.
Al heel lang was ik gefascineerd door de trekharmonica. Toen ik in Groningen vlakbij de muziekschool kwam te wonen, greep ik mijn kans, nam les en leerde spelen. Inmiddels woon ik weer op Ameland en de trekharmonica verhuisde mee. Ameland is net als de andere Waddeneilanden een trekzakland. Nieuwswaardige verhalen over Ameland en de trekharmonica en tips voor de balgspeler plaats ik hieronder. Met een diatonische groet, Jeanet de Jong
donderdag 6 augustus 2015
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.
Labels:
Chieftains,
Iers,
Sinead O'Connor,
The Foggy Dew
Location:
Ameland, Nederland
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
[Chorus:]
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
[Chorus]
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
[Chorus]
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
[Chorus]
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 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
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