Bidh Clann Ulaidh I learned this lovely lullaby from the late Ishbel MacAskill when we sang it together at the 2007 Celtic Colours International festival on Cape Breton Island. In the song, the composer blesses her child's future wedding, saying will be attended by the children of Ulster and the children of the king, and naming different clans who will be in attendance. Ishbel and I both liked it for it’s underlining of the strong historical link between the Ulster region of Ireland and Scotland.
Bidh Clann Ulaidh, laoigh 's a lurain Bidh Clann Ulaidh, air do bhanais Bidh Clann Ulaidh, laoigh 's a lurain Dèanamh an danns' air do bhanais
Sèist Bidh Clann a' Righ, bidh Clann a' Righ Bidh Clann a' Righ, air do bhanais Bidh Clann a' Righ, seinnear a' phìob Òlar am fìon air do bhanais
Bidh Clann Amhlaidh, na fir ghreannmhor Bidh Clann Amhlaidh, air do bhanais Bidh Clann Amhlaidh, na fir ghreannmhor Dèanamh an danns' air do bhanais
Sèist
Bidh Clann Choinnich, nam feachd soilleir Bidh Clann Choinnich, air do bhanais Bidh Clann Choinnich, nam feachd soilleir Dèanamh an danns' air do bhanais
Sèist
Bidh Clann Dhòmhnaill, tha cha neònach Bidh Clann Dhòmhnaill, air do bhanais Bidh Clann Dhòmhnaill, tha cha neònach Dèanamh an danns' air do bhanais
Sèist
CAVAN ROAD I learned the Cavan Road from our friend and fellow singer/flautist Cathal McConnell. see Cathal McConnell song collection
Voice from the Sea
Martin sent me a link to an online copy of the book ‘The Ulster Folk’ by Padric Gregory (London 1912) saying ‘no melodies but you might find something that sparks an idea.’ So I had a look through it, and loved the words and sentiment of this song. The melody just seemed to suggest itself.
Oh Girleen, leave that dark, weed-covered rock And watch no more the waves white-capped with foam Nor listen to their sighs; they only mock Your lonely sorrowed heart; Now come back home.
I don’t watch each wave that sweeps and falls, I don’t heed the sobbing of the sea – I’m listening for my own true lover’s call There, can you hear now? He’s calling me….
Ah Girleen, sure it’s only the wild, wild wind, A-wailing o’er the waters its sad song; Put all these thoughts of him far from your mind- To our own good god alone, the dead belong.
Ye lie, he’s mine, for from the grey sea-mist. Yesterday evening when the sun sunk low He came and took me in his arms and kissed my mouth Just like he used to, long ago.
And so, I’ll not go home, but here I’ll stay For maybe, in the smoky gloamin’ dim, He’ll come again out o’er the showers o’ spray And take me o’er the ragin’ seas with him.
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