Lyr Add: The Glendalough Saint

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Glendalough Saint
From: Les in Chorlton
Date: 13 May 15 - 01:30 PM

Great song but I prefer:

Well, he gave the poor craythur a shake,
And I wish that a garda had caught him,
For She threw him right into the lake,
And she laughed as he sank to the bottom.

I think he deserved it and she has drowned far too many times already

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Glendalough Saint
From: Richard Mellish
Date: 13 May 15 - 05:56 AM

A conversation with two friends last night turned to Saint Kevin, whereupon I sang them a version of this song, which I learnt many years ago. I'm now trying to discover where I got it, so I'm reviving this ancient thread.

I recall that The Dubliners had a version, which may have been similar to the one posted above, but I know that I found a very different version somewhere and learnt either that, as it stood, or possibly a combination.

I had few song books all those years ago, but I did have O Lochlainn, and that seemed a likely source. But this morning I've consulted both volumes and drawn a blank.

My version starts:
In Glendalough lived an old saint,
In the odour of sanctity dwelling:
An old-fashioned odour which, now,
We seldom or never are smelling.

Anyone familiar with that and where I might have found it?

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Glendalough Saint
From: Jon Freeman
Date: 03 Mar 00 - 09:20 PM

In Dominic Behan'sIrelad sings the notes read "My father has about two versions of this song which deas with the attempt by Kathleen Og of Dara to seduce Saint Kevin of Glendalugh. Lovely name Gleann Da oughu the glen of the twin lakes. The only other version he sings to shock the company."

Jon

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Glendalough Saint
From: Stewie
Date: 03 Mar 00 - 08:01 PM

Great song. I have it on an old Topic LP by Dominic Behan - 'Down by the Liffeyside'. He simply called it 'The Saint'. The following note was on the sleeve - it may be of interest:

Dominic writes: 'This alleges to tell the story of St Kevin of Glendalough who, it is said, thought more of celibacy than worldly wantonness. I imagine it was made by Michael J. Moran, the blind ballad singer of Falley Alley, who called himself Zozimos. I got the song, though, like a good many more, from my father, Stephen Behan'.

The austere and pious Celtic church gave Ireland the reputation of the Isle of Saints as long as 1500 years ago. St Kevin founded his monastery in Glendalough, Co Wicklow, in the sixth century. He seems to have spent his first years there as a hermit, lodging in a tree; but, later, may have built the church called 'The Church of the Rock', which you can only get to by boat. There is still a cave in the rocks at Glendalough which goes by the name of St Kevin's bed. Perhaps he used to retire there to meditate - or to escape from the amorous, Kathleen, whose mournful ghost still, they say, glides sadly in search of him to this very day.

It does not name the writer of the comments following Behan's - might be Bill Leader, who made the recording.

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Glendalough Saint
From: the plumber
Date: 03 Mar 00 - 05:59 PM

"fervour" might be "fever". My source is pretty basic

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Glendalough Saint
From: the plumber
Date: 03 Mar 00 - 02:56 PM

A continuing verse goes:

It is rumoured from that very day Kathleens ghost can be seen on the river And the saint never raised up his hand For he died of the right kind of fervour

Subject: ADD: The Glendalough Saint
From: Conrad Bladey (Peasant- Inactive)
Date: 03 Mar 00 - 10:17 AM

To hell with saint pat sing of the merits of Kevin! :)

The Glendalough Saint In Glendalough lived an auld saint Renowned for his learning and piety. His manners was curious and quaint, And he looked upon girls with disparity. Fol-la-de-la-la-de-la-lay, fol-la-de-la-la-de-la-laddy Fol-la-de-la-la-de-la-laaay ... fol-la-de-la-la-de-la-laddy He was fond of reading a book When he could get one to his wishes. He was fond of casting his hook In among all the young fishes. Fol-la, etc. Well one evening he landed a trout, He landed a fine big trout, sir, When Cathleen from over the way Came to see what the auld monk was about, sir. Fol-la, etc. "Well, get out of me way," said the saint, "For I am a man of great piety, And me good manners I wouldn't taint Not by mixing with female society." Fol-la, etc. Ah, but Kitty she wouldn't give in, And when he got home to his rockery, He found she was seated therein A-polishing up his auld crockery. Fol-la, etc. Well, he gave the poor craythur a shake, And I wish that a garda had caught him, For he threw her right into the lake, And she sank right down to the bottom. Fol-la, etc.