TALKIN' CAVAN
As recorded by Tim O'Brien on "The Crossing" (1999)

Now a while ago I chanced to roam
To the place my great-granddaddy called home.
There wasn't much I saw that day,
But I learned a whole lot more along the way.
  I was going to Ireland,
  Retracing my family footsteps,
  Digging up roots.
  You could call them tubers.

Now the closer to the root of my family tree,
The more people seemed to look like me.
I saw a sign said: "Molly O'Brien's Bar."
I knew right then I couldn't be all that far,
So I went in there and I asked for beer,
And he pours out this black stuff. He says: "Cheers.
Guinness gives you strength," he said,
And I tell you, friends, it's like drinking bread.
  There's a loaf in every pint.
  I started feeling strong.
  I felt like I could sing.

Now my whistle was wet and my tongue was loose
When the barman asked me how'd I choose
To travel such a long, long way
On such a cold and a rainy day?

I said: "I'm going up to Kingscourt town—
That's in county Cavan—just to look around.
My great granddaddy came from there,
And I want to see if the old home place is still there."
  Well he shook his head up and down,
  And then side to side,
  Then he turned around and he said:
  "A Cavan man, then.
  You know, a lot of people wouldn't admit to that."

Well, I figured I'd save myself a little bit of hassle,
Booked a room nearby in a fancy castle.
I had a hard time getting my dinner there.
It was full of these people with light blond hair:
  Danish tourists,
  Two big busloads of them.

Now the owner of the place, his hair was black,
And when I talked to him I didn't get much back.
His people are what you'd call West Brits.
They're the ones that treated my people like—dirt.
That led indirectly to the Irish civil war.
I didn't realize I'd come back for just a little bit more.
  That fella's nose was way up in the air,
  But he took my money just the same.

That night I dreamed I saw the ghost
Of the one I'd rather have as host.
He was Tom O'Brien walking round the cabin
West of Kingscourt town in county Cavan,
And then the very next day in a hardware store
I met a cousin ten times removed or more,
But he was no apparition; he weren't no haint.
He was selling nuts and bolts and paint.

I told him about our family connection.
He kind of stood there, still reflectin'.
I could tell he wasn't much impressed
When he asked me with nary a trace of jest,
  He said: "How exactly may I help you, sir?"
  I just bought some nails and got the hell out of there.

Then later that day after some detectin',
I found a lane in the rural section
And it matched a picture in my dad's scrapbook
And my heart beat faster as I drove up to look.

Then the sun burst through the clouds just then,
So I gazed down at the current residents.
It was a little sheepdog and an old milk cow.
I guess the old home place is an old barn now.
It's ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
Thatched roof to tin roof, and tin roof to rust.