The heritage of revolution and discord is strong in Ireland. Events such as the Battle of the Boyne in 1690 (remembered by Protestants in Ulster for the victory of William over the Roman Catholic Irish Army), the Rebellion of 1798 (commemorated by the great Republican anthem Risin' of the Moon), the Easter Rebellion of 1916 ( depicted in The Foggy, Foggy Dew), and the Irish Revolution of 1919-22 are well remembered. Less glory has been heaped on the continuing "Troubles", that reached a peak in the late 70s and early 80s, but continue through the present day. Recently, peace talks involving the IRA's political wing Sinn Fein, the Ulster Unionists, and the government of Great Britain have fanned the flames of hope for peace among the Irish, a hope that is shared by the vast majority of those in Ireland, England, and indeed the world.

I start this thread in the hope of lasting peace for Ireland, and I would love to see folks like Big Mick, the Shambles, InObu, Brendy, Trevor, Alison and others try their hands at this challenge.

Happy St Patrick's Day !

My Father used to tell me, when I was but a lad
" You'll be an IRA man, like me and my old Dad!
'Tis Ireland for the Irish, and never compromise!"
His words would echo in my head as sleeping closed my eyes.

Tim and I and Michael turned to flinging bricks and rocks
At the pale faced English soldier-boys riding in their armored trucks.
And at the tender age of 16 (a lad of brave reknown)
I joined the Provo army in a house in Portadown.

On my chest I wore a Crucifix, in my coat an Armalite.
I was pledged to Pope and Erin, and to further Freedom's fight.
My childhood friends and I, we fought,Brothers true in arms,
And if we served our country's cause, then we could do no harm.

Tim was shot in '81 by a stranger on his stair,
Michael went to prison for the bomb at Connell Square,
My own Dad, my Brother Mark, and two of my friends more
Were killed inside MacArtain's Pub by a bomb tossed through the door.

I swore vengeance for their sakes, and for the sake of Bobby Sands
And in their names, and Ireland's, I've blood upon my hands.
But still we'd come no closer to my Father's sacred prize-
"Ireland for the Irish, and never compromise!"

And then one night my own dear Wife, she took me by the hand
Saying "I love you and little Meg more than I love this land.
To seek the future with a gun is neither strong nor wise.
The time has come for Green and Orange to find a compromise."

I lay long awake that night, then fell into a dream:
Tim and Mark and my old Dad stood by my bed, it seemed
I woke and held my Mary close in the darkness of our room
As the words my Dad had spoken came back to me in the gloom.

" My son, there is no glory seeking vengeance for the past,
And Hate should sleep like Ireland's dead beneath a veil of grass.
When Irishmen, together, shall make the killing cease,
'Tis Ireland for the children, for Brotherhood and Peace."

Put away your rifles boys, Put away your guns
At last the bombs are silent, just look how far we've come,
There's many years of hatred we still need to overcome,
The time is right to end the fight, and put away your guns.

slainte

alison

last verse...

'Tis principle that shows the man,
This is the best, the only plan,
And one that I have built upon,
As passing through old Erin.
Then let us at the present day,
Drive prejudice and spleen away,
Far, far beyond the Atlantic sea,
And all shake hands in Erin.

( all of Ireland! )

(line breaks added by a Joe Clone)

Chorus:
Look ahead Tommy
This Boston life is kind
And you can build a better world
Then the one I left behind
Look ahead Tommy
And don't forget your name
Is a tribute to the land from which we came

In Galway and Kilkenny, where our friends and cousins many
Since nineteen hundred twenty, have been war torn by the day
In a land that's rife with troubles, we often share their struggles
In our hearts and in our prayers, your grandmother and me
Everyday

Go to Chorus

In Galway and Kilkenny, when the fightin' dies away
And peace returns to Ireland, so many miles away
Count your blessings in the new world, tell your children of their start
Oh and take me back to Ireland, if it's only in your heart
One day

Go to Chorus

To be sung to the tune of A Rambling Irishman. I have just used the tune to make a point. A naive point maybe but I had this dream, where the whole of Ireland, North and South, joined in one huge session and danced together . . . But what do I know, I'm just a bumbling Englishman? One of many who love the music though.

A Bumbling Englishman

There was a bumbling Englishman,
Ambition in him burning.
He'd seen all those 'Riverdancing' shows,
And he became determined.
He bought him a fiddle of great renown,
And it cost him lots of 'fivers'.
He vowed he play that fiddle too,
Just like Eileen Ivers.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

Eileen could do no wrong in his eyes,
A star that would not tarnish.
He coated his fiddle in 'NITROMORS',
To get off all that varnish.
He painted that poor fiddle blue,
To imitate his hero.
His lust and ambition you could not fault,
But his taste and talent was zero.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

When he started scraping away,
People left the area.
He was quickly left all on his own,
Just like he had malaria.
There was one tune, he was determined to play,
It was poor old 'Fanny Power'.
If she could have heard it the way he played,
She'd have prayed for her final hour.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

Andy said if he carried on,
He'd take that fiddle and burn it
So he thought he would cross the Irish Sea,
What better place to learn it?
Found himself lost in the North,
Without much rhyme nor reason.
Looking for a place to learn his tune,
In the middle of the marching season.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

When he came to a barricade,
They'd let him go no further.
He did not notice the stony glares,
Intent on bloody murder.
He sat down to play his tune,
And he didn't need to say it.
A young lad took his whistle out,
And showed him how to play it.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

An old man came from the other side,
He could not stand his scratching.
He stepped up smart and took his bow,
And now the notes were matching.
A flute joined in and they played a reel
And then the dancing started.
He soon forgot his violin,
For his dancing was whole-hearted.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

So many people played that day,
They'd forgotten why they came there.
Thanks to that bumbling Englishman,
Things never were the same there.
They thought it was a good idea,
To send him where there was trouble.
For as soon as he started to play his tune,
They'd all leave at the double.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

The moral of this tale is clear,
That when you've nearly lost it.
The very best ones to sort it out,
Are the very same ones that caused it.
And where is the hero of our tale,
Who's not been heard of latterly.
When he's not peace-making for the U.N.
He's understudying Michael Flatley.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy

.

Roger Gall 1999

.

PEACE.

I'll try to remember to enter Kavanah's "Cry, Cry, Cry" on Monday if no-one beats me to it.

G.

May I have your joint permission to put The Provo's Song in the Mudcat Songbook? This is one song that should be preserved for posterity, definitely!

-- Áine

All well done gang and a bit of pleasure to read.

Spaw

There ya go, it's in the Book now. Thank you!

Dear alison,

Come on, girl, let's see ya write some verses for that wonderful chorus, OK? Take the weekend and work on it! We know you can do it!

-- Áine

--Mbo

LEJ

White Snow of the Springtime
Well it came like some Angel before you could know.
Now the blossom is fallen, it's gone like the snow.
The blossom is fallen, now the white tree is green -
when the summer is over then the fruit will be seen.
(chorus)
White snow of the springtime, new hope once again,
strength to us all, till we meet here as friends,
with hearts joined together, for all that is done -
peace ever after, from here and now on.

Now it's time to remember the lessons we learn
as we walk down this road, on which there's no return.
Skies that are cloudy, the grass that is green,
we carry them with us, those sights we have seen.
(Chorus)
White snow of the springtime, new hope once again,
strength to us all, till we meet here as friends,
with hands joined together, for all that is gone -
peace ever after, from here and now on.

No greater love could a man ever show
than to lay down his dreams for his friends and his foes.
Now and for ever, to stretch out those hands,
peace to the people of these troubled lands
(Chorus)
White snow of the springtime, new hope once again,
strength to us all, till we meet here as friends,
with hands joined together, for all that is gone -
peace ever after, from here and now on.

April 1996

This is a song that started with a physical image, of a cherry tree in my garden, and which has taken on a load of meanings for me - mostly to do with events in Ireland, and with Easter.

It's weird sometimes how reality follows images. I wrote the song back in 1996, and my "white snow" was fallen cherry blossom - but as they came out from negotiating the deal on Good Friday, the pictures on the TV showed them standing in falling snow, real snow. (Which is very rare in Ireland at Easter)

And here's a link to it on my website, with chords - (and when I can get it together, It'll have the tune as well). White Snow

part of the last verse of "song for ireland"

... lorraine

part of the last verse of "song for ireland"

... lorraine

Ireland To Me.

I dream of a country, far over the sea
I dream of its people, united and free
I dream of a land, that I've yet to see
Thanks to all those who've brought Ireland to me

I've worked with you daily, gone with you to school
A different way but still nobody's fool
Our languages too, seem to hold us apart
Mine speaks from the head, yours speaks from the heart

I've seen all the passions, that in those eyes burn
The pain of those, who will never return
A pride in a home land, that I'll never share
Divisions 'known' only, to those who live there

I dream of a country, far over the sea
I dream of its people, united and free
I dream of a land, that I've yet to see
Thanks to all those who've brought Ireland to me

I hear songs of your heroes, wars lost and won
But my thoughts are with those, whose song is unsung
Just in the wrong place and at the wrong time
Nameless martyrs, cut down in their prime

Their tragedies mean nothing, lost daughters and sons
If we all let the madness, go on and on
Time to look to the future, not to live in the past
Let the guns now fall silent, and make sure it will last

I dream of a country, far over the sea
I dream of its people, united and free
I dream of a land, that I've yet to see
Thanks to all those who've brought Ireland to me

Roger Gall 2000

With special thanks to Lonesome Ernie Johnson, Kevin McGrath and the Keeper of the Book

Thank you, dear friend.

-- Áine

I still haven't gone away, you know !

Trevor

By the way Trevor, it came from the heart, from a girl who spent most of her life in Belfast.......

I've read your posts in other threads as I'm sure you have read mine...... so far this one is different ..... people are writing of hope for the future....

slainte

alison

And Alison, words coming from someone's heart hold no currency per se. You could say that Margaret Thatcher's praise of Prsident Pinochet come from the heart, but many paople would loke to deny her the freedom to say them. As they would like to deny me the right not to accept the propoganda of the running dogs of Republicanism.

Shambles, I lay no claim to be a purveyor of verse, there are already too many ready to take that particular leap in the dark. Trevor

I hope you didn't take the reference to carrying an Armalite in my song as a glorification of it. What I meant to show was that some who have been guilty of using violence to achieve a goal can change. In fact, if we are to overcome the ancient hatreds indeed we all must change. Not just in Northern Ireland, but in Bosnia, and Timor, here in the United States and everywhere.

Some say the World will end in Fire, some say in Ice
From what I know
Of Human anger and desire
I hold with those who favor Fire
But from what I know of Hate
I know it's power is also great
And will suffice

-R Frost

So, he lived inside his fantasy;
It seems he wasn't touched at all.
The steed he rode was constant and the path he walked was tall.
The mask he wore changed colours with the turning of the tides,
as he kept a watchful eye on the people sleeping.
And his vision of the mystery formed by what he saw as true,
he struggled with the darkness till the sun came shining through.
As he stood among the fragments of his castle in the air,
he looked upon his kingdom, only he was standing there.

Only love, only love.
Only love can take your heart and bring it to it's knees.
Only love. Only love.

So he packed his bags and walked away
and he left the rest behind.
He tried to rise above his fear and overcome his mind.
He sought his soul in No Man's Land, and he did without a care.
He found himself a purpose and he raised his banner there.
It's a flag that spent so many years afraid to come unfurled,
as he wallowed in injustices, and blamed this cruel world.

It's a crazy kind of lovesong
That I'm singing here tonight.
As we reminisce the squandered years and ease our troubled minds.
When our days are filled with hindsight
of the storm-filled burning sands,
then the time for the restless wanderer is done.
The scars of refuge dying,
the diggin' in the soil.
Gone but not forgotten, you cannot kill them all.
And still it pains my eyes to see
the heart where heroes dwelled,
heavy, hard and beaten
from the broken dreams it held.

Only love, only love
Only love can take your heart and bring it to it's knees
Only love. Only love.

Copyright © 1999 Orchard County Music.

"Troubles" a euphemism? Not where I stand, rpm. "Troubles" is a word that takes in all the sorrows of the world, and knows there are always more to come. And America has enough of its own, from what I can see. And has caused enough as well.

As one who's frequently criticised out-and-out Republicanism in this forum, I have to say I find Trevor's contributions here deeply depressing. IF you want to take issue with people and their views, Trevor, then please do. If you want to argue contrary views then even better. Either way, people will respect you for your contribution (whether or not they agree with you) and - by contributing to and extending the discussion - you improve the prospects of people reaching a better understanding of these issues. But you seem to prefer to criticise without offering anything constructive, and to come from a position every bit as extreme and one-sided as the most rabid Republican.

The Armalite and Semtex aren't the only instruments of opression casting their shadow over Ireland; to them you must add many of the Churches (both Catholic and Protestant), Local Government, many politicians and their parties, the RUC, the British Army, the sledge hammer . . And while many of those instruments are common to both the Republican and Unionist "extremes" of the situation, there's too large a group which "belong" to the Unionist side.

[Note, for instance, the political outcry over the reform proposals for the RUC - which did no more than bring it more into line with police forces in the rest of the UK. (Of course, the British Government declined to make that point, or any other strong indication that the reforms were over-long overdue.) Of course, one has to keep in mind that the Unionists aren't interested in "union" with the rest of Britain of today, their "union" is with a mythical England of the days of William of Orange.]

G.

Brendy, what a song you have written. The images are powerful.

It gives a pretty full acoount of the background and the course of events - and the links section will give you access to any number of competing points of view.

This may be more than you want of course. I think you are right to suggest people write via email - public discussions here tend to get out of hand at times, which is affair enough, but might get in the way for your present purposes.

What you might do is post any specific questions here on the Mudcat, asking people to reply by email (or personal message - even if you did sign in as a guest this time).

Bring the peace home

He was born on the Orange side,
she was born on the green
while the white of the bandages
fluttered in-between
he learned to play on the flute and the drum
while she took the fiddle and pipe
and nobody then would have ever believed it
one of these days they might

break down the barbed wire
walkout of the compound
and take their own lives by the hand
the sins of our fathers
the fears of our mothers
gone way beyond our command
this all is one country from Athens to Belfast
Oslo Dublin and Rome
and we are tired of the fighting
the bitching back biting
it's time to bring the peace home,
come and bring the peace home

they met up in London
after leaving their hometown for dead
it did not seam to matter there
what prayers psalms or mantras you said
and the tunes they played were the same tunes
their rhythms easily entwined
their old names were different then
their new names as yet undefined

we will break down the barbed wire
walkout of the compound
and take their own lives by the hand
the sins of our fathers
the fears of our mothers
gone way beyond our command
this all is one country from Athens to Belfast
Oslo Dublin and Rome
and we are tired of the fighting the bitching back biting
it's time to bring the peace home,
come and bring the peace home

When they brought home their daughter
their mother she did not want to know
told them she was born in sin
and to hell she surely would go
well I'll tell you Mrs Daly
if you would just open your mind
it was not in sin but in ecstasy
and I don't mean the chemical kind

we will break down the barbed wire
walkout of the compound
and take their own lives by the hand
the sins of our fathers
the fears of our mothers
gone way beyond our command
we all are one people
black white green or orange
every girl man and boy
and while all that god is giving
is this one life for living
mine I am going to enjoy

(line breaks added by a Joe clone)

Did you write that song? The words are riveting. If the song is yours, would you please give me permission to put it in the Mudcat Songbook? And be on the lookout for an email from me, because I definitely want to hear and learn this song!

-- Áine

Thanks for this thread LEJ, looks like you have started something really good here. Can't wait for the next one.

Here is rough draft which has borrowed the tune of an Irish fighting melody and I hope used it for a better purpose, if rougher words. Suggestions welcome.

A

Children of Erin

I am but a child, of Erin born,
Where the Shannon's tide runs free
Where  the green hills stand on an ancient land
Did my parents dear bear me
And the world so sweet
Heard my pattering feet
As I reached a young girl's age
Raised upon dark tales
Of the banshee's wail
And the blood of an ancient  rage

In shaded glens, and the streets of men
Was a gentle lass made grown
Where the strangest song
Was of dreams gone wrong,
And the keening widder-moan
For the boys and men, who have left our ken,
To the hard guns lost we they.
And the hardened hearts, that most bitter part,
Brought  cold chills to a  young child's days.

Could a girl, still young
Wish a brighter sun
For her nation, whole, and new?
Could a young child's dreams
Ever speak to those
Who had walked in the blood-red dew?
For the times do grow, as the new blood knows,
And their changes fast arrive
And where maidens wept, may new vows be held,
That the children whole may live.

Where fighting men died in mountain glens
May the silent thistle grow
Cold steel and hot blood
Have done  no thing good
For an Irish   daughter's soul.
Shall  the softer light
Of a promise bright,
Feed the land where the Shannon flows?
And in every man, may a true vow stand
That the broken may grow whole.

When I my love meet
And our first born greet
In a nearby future day,
Should he need to know
Of our deepest vows,
Will he hear me gladly say
That we gave our names
To a higher claim,
Where the blood runs deep in the soul?
And turned our hand to a kinder land,
Where the children now grow whole.
 

(c) 2000 A. H. Jessup
 
 

Man,wouldn't these songs make a GREAT CD!

Beautiful! What a wonderful song. I've sent you a PM about it.

-- Áine

Repeat chorus

Now I know us plain folks don't see all the story
And I know this peace and love's just copping out
And I guess these young boys dying in the ditches
Is just what being free is all about
And how this twisted wreckage down on main street
Will bring us all together in the end
And we'll go marching down the road to freedom...
Freedom

Copyright Rondor Music (London)

(line breaks added by a Joe clone. you need to put < br > at the end of your lines, (without the spaces))

Rene Zabel - BMI

(line breaks added by a Joe clone. (you need to put < br > at the end of each line (without the spaces))

Listen to your heart,
hear it beating.
Down there in the dark,
never sleeping.
Through lonely times and homely times,
and times that are so fleeting,
do you dare to listen to your heart?
Do you dare to listen to your heart?
Can you bear to listen to your heart?
You listen to yourself
when you listen to your heart.
Do you dare to listen to your heart?

Listen to your heart,
can you bear to?
Down there in the dark
do you dare to?
Through busy times and dizzy times
and times when yiou are scared to,
O so scared to listen to your heart.
Are you scared to listen to your heart?
Are you scared to listen to your heart?
You listen to yourself
when you listen to your heart.
Do you dare to listen to your heart?

Oh once I wore my heart on my shoulder.
Once I played the part of a soldier -
but now's no time for foolishness,
the time for that is over -
can you hear that whisper in your heart?
Can you hear that whisper in your heart?
Can you hear that whisper in your heart?
You listen to yourself
when you listen to your heart.
Do you dare to listen to your heart?

Listen to your heart,
what it's saying,
down there in the dark,
day out and day in,
through olden days, and golden days,
and days you feel like praying,
can you bear to listen to your heart?
Can you bear to listen to your heart?
Can you bear to listen to your heart?
You listen to yourself
when you listen to your heart.
Do you dare to listen to your heart?

The whispering heart has a double meaning of course. All kinds of reasons for turning from violence.

Kara -- No, it wasn't my Washburn I was fixing. It was my Takamine. I had to reglue a bridge and sand down the frets. It's sounding better, but I'm still not satisfied with the frets. Looks like I'll have to get them replaced some time down the road. My Washburn Montgomery J-6 is brandnew and I'm in love with her. It's a good thing my dear hubby is so understanding -- the laundry and the dishes are piling up while I steal extra minutes from my "domestic engineer" job to play her.

-- Áine

Zombie

Another head hangs lowly,
Child is slowly taken.
And the violence caused such silence,
Who are we mistaken?

But you see, it's not me, it's not my family.
In your head, in your head they are fighting,
With their tanks and their bombs,
And their bombs and their guns.
In your head, in your head, they are crying...

In your head, in your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie,
Hey, hey, hey. What's in your head,
In your head,

Zombie, zombie, zombie?
Hey, hey, hey, hey, oh, dou, dou, dou, dou, dou...

Another mother's breakin',
Heart is taking over.
When the vi'lence causes silence,
We must be mistaken.
It's the same old theme since nineteen-sixteen.
In your head, in your head they're still fighting,

With their tanks and their bombs,
And their bombs and their guns.

In your head, in your head, they are dying...

In your head, in your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie,
Hey, hey, hey. What's in your head,
In your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie?
Hey, hey, hey, hey, oh, oh, oh,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, hey, oh, ya, ya-a...

If anyone is interested in hearing these songs, or learning more about my music, and the CD, please respond to this post, and I will send you the link.

Click for Sullsinger's Site

Rick

Sinn Fein talking peace, never thought I'd see the day
(when peace was breakin out in Ireland)
gut sick of violence, there had to be another way
(when peace is breakin out in Ireland)
and ex-pats around the world singing Irish songs in pubs
(when peace is breakin out in Ireland)
singing "Life's far too short, not to be Irish"
(when peace is breakin out in Ireland))

The tears of the innocents, you see the hatred burning
(when peace....)
family's are torn apart, sons hating fathers
(when peace...)
but ex-pats around the world sing the Irish songs in pubs
(when peace is ....)
and "Life's far too short not to be Irish"!!!

The song is on mp3.com in the Irish music/folk section and is called "When peace is breakin out in Ireland"

or you might like to hear some New Zealand Irish music by our group KEEGAN at www.mp3.com/keegan1

keep it up

Mike Lipscombe

(line breaks added by a Joe clone)

"Love is the key we must turn, Truth is the flame we must burn, Freedom is a lesson we can learn, If you know what i mean.

Until then,.........

To all of my friends who contributed to this thread -

You are truly a wise, wonderful and creative group. I am proud of you for all the songs posted here that either brought a smile to my face, or tears to my eyes. I think that soon this thread will pass into the archives, but I will always remember the positive energy generated by it. And, to you all, I offer this toast on St Patrick's Day :

May all your dreams of Peace come true for the Irish, and for us all. May we deal with each other in a spirit of kindness and mutual respect. May we replace the memory of old wrongs with the hope and promise of new beginnings.

Slainte'

LEJ

Slainte', LEJ!

A.

I sat for a while by the gap in the wall
Found a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
Heard the cards being dealt, and the rosary called
And a fiddle playing Sean Dun na nGall
And the next time I see you we'll be down at the Greeks
There'll be whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
For it's stupid to laugh and it's useless to bawl
About a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball

So I walked as day was dawning
Where small birds sang and leaves were falling
Where we once watched the row boats landing
By the broad majestic Shannon

Off to hear pipers and drink stout! Slainte!

Shad

It would be appropriate, since it was the the tune used by Brendan Behan (not Dominic for once) for "The Ould Alarum Clock" about a bombing expedition to London on behalf of the IRA at the start of the last war.

It's not in the DT so far as I could find it. I'd be surprised if it's never featured in a thread. (It's a song that's sung a lot less often than it was back in the 60s.)

It's a song which despite its age, speaks directly to our time and especially to those who value traditional idiom.

One small explanation is needed ... To Clough or to the Glens hard by ... is a reference to the fact that in the north of Ireland protestants tend to occupy the towns, villages and lower ground while, certainly in the country, catholics live higher up, where it's less fertile; a survival of the forced population movement at the time of the Plantation - however, High McWilliams showed no bitterness and nor should we.

PEACE IN ERIN

Tune - Rattling Guns.

Were all mankind disposed like me,
To live in love and unity,
No more contention there would be,
Upon the plains of Erin.
Originally we are sprung,
From Father Adam, old and young,
These words should flow from every tongue,
We'll cherish peace in Erin

We're formed by one Deity,
To worship him, let's all agree,
And live in love and harmony
With every class in Erin.
On Sunday, if our roads do lie,
To Clough, or to the Glens* hard by,
It should not weaken friendship's tie,
Amongst the sons of Erin!

What shore can boast so pure an air?
Or sons more brave or girls more fair,
Or who were e'er esteemed in war,
Before the boys of Erin ?
Their courage far abroad is known,
In the field of mars their glory shone;
Then let us cultivate at home,
The laws of peace in Erin !

Would freedom fair and commerce smile,
Upon my dear, my native isle,
Not Egypt with her flowing Nile,
Could equal thee sweet Erin;
Fine silver lakes and pearly springs,
And verdant groves where music rings,
And health, with healing in her wings,
Do bless the land of Erin.

'Tis principle that shows the man,
This is the best, the only plan,
And one that I have built upon,
As passing through old Erin.
Then let us at the present day,
Drive prejudice and spleen away,
Far, far beyond the Atlantic sea,
And all shake hands in Erin!

And this is what I'd like to have for Ireland, the country that has made us what we are: To breathe the air of freedome In her mountains and her streets, And give the children peace instead of war.

Please click on the previous link in this thread and let us ALL sing the song.

Shambles in Hearme - Do you think we could get the producers of Valium to sponsor the event.

Any thoughts anyone?

mg

All The Fighting, Lord
(sung to All My Trials)

Hush my country, don't you cry
You know that we all are born to die
May all the fighting, Lord, soon be over

It's not too late, dear brothers
It's not too late to march together
May all the fighting, Lord, soon be over

As my tears ring out in the moonlit night
I pray you'll lower your rifle sights
May all the fighting, Lord, soon be over

I've got an orange sash given to me
Stitched on the breast are strips of green
May all the fighting, Lord, soon be over

There is a wall they call the Peace Line
Tear it down and let your hearts shine
May all the fighting, Lord, soon be over

Amergin

It ended with father gazing into his sons coffin while the band sang

'Oh my son was just like me yeah my son was just like me'

Very affecting I always assumed the family featured were protestants because the mother had a feathered haircut!!

Such are the Irish psychoses.

GBS

Many others, would have developed the same understanding of that advert. Not so many, however, would have seen the significance of it. The accent is also a give-away.

B.

It does come from one section of the community and was aimed at them. It was young men who have grown up with segregation and have inherited the concept that violence is natural, heroic and the only option.

Not exclusively from either the loyalist or nationalist sides.

If you are used to living in a divided community and especially one where you identified with the oppressed minority, your reading of that Government message is understandable. For you will see all the subtleties that others will miss and be suspicious of the whole thing. If the correct word for this is psychosis, then at least it is an understandable psychosis.

It may be is possible however that someone from the other side would see it as depicting ONLY their side?

Maybe they could have placed the film in a fictitious country or setting but I think the impact would have been less? In truth how could they have have got the message over any better, if they wanted to make it particularly relevant to Northern Ireland? By using English or American actors and their 'Orish' accents?

Possibly I would suggest by having two story lines, one from each community but that may have made it a little unwieldy and confusing?

I may be suspicious of, a such a message from my government, especially if they were not the party of my choice. It would be foolish of me not to take heed of a film that advised me to 'fasten my seatbelt, if the main character was clearly a Scotsman (or an actor with a poor accent), for example. For I could surely still see the common sense in the message?

Time for another song, I think ………….

based on the picture I described..

go home little girl and play with your doll
leave the stones in the street and the bricks in the wall
and trust in the sun to shine over us all
in the city they call Portadown Portadown the city they call Portadown...

The prettiest colleens are in Portadown
they laugh and they sing and they skip up and down
and throw rocks at the soldiers who come to their town
In the city they call Portadown Portadown in the city they call Portadown

it's not if you're orange and not if you're green
but whether your decent or whether you're mean
the whole world is watching the whole world has seen
the city they call Portadown Portadown the city they call Portadown..

Parents are dying
Children are crying
Birds are flying
Away

Peace is leaving
Turmoil is heaving
People are grieving
The dead

When will it all end
When will the wounds mend
When can we send
The guns away

Either way, I wish every one of you a Happy St Patrick's Day!

A

Amerginduckinghishead...

Having been closer than I cared to be to two of the IRA's bombs in London, and having known one victim, I tend to get het up about things Irish, and thus avoid them most of the time.

I also have a problem with the phrase "the peace process", which I consider a singularly inept neologism. Wherever it is used, be it in the Middle East or Ireland, it always seems to be a synonym for two implacably hostile factions making superficially polite conversation while figuring out how they can poison the other side's drinks.

What do you get after the peace process? Mushy peace?

The songs in this thread are superb, and I wish I could add something worthwhile. Maybe I will, though I'm a singer of songs, and not a particularly good songwriter.

"Peace will come, let it begin with me!" (Paxton)

Thank you, all who have contributed above, for making me think! I must leave and obtain treatment for my cynicism.

They kept playing snatches of 'There Were Roses' sung by a young-sounding Irish female voice I didnt recognise (& it was WONDERFULLY done, btw)

...Just wondering if anyone has any idea of who it might be?.....It didnt say on the Credits that I could see.

I know this is possibly a little bit of thread creep, & that I could do a Search on Google anyway for Discographies, but I just wanted to post to this thread & show my 'support' for it, along with what I've said/asked above.