Subject: RE: Lyr Req: For Ireland I'd Not Tell Her Name
From:
Jim Carroll
Date: 27 May 18 - 09:38 AM
AS martin's link seems to have nbeen bushwhacked - TRY THIS
Jim Carroll
The Hills of Glendore (Roud 9302)
Tom Lenihan, Knockbrack, Miltown Malbay, Recorded 1976
Carroll Mackenzie Collection
Tom Lenihan
There’s a home in the hills of Glendore,
That sleeps near the broad open sea,
Whilst the rivers that dash through the foam
And the bull rushes wave in the breeze.
The green ivy clings around the door,
And the birds sweetly sing on each tree.
To my darling sweet notes they do pour,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
Her father has riches in store,
Both cattle, corn and wealth,
And fine land by lovely Glandore
While I have my youth and good health.
For she’s the fond maid I adore
And her life she has pledged unto me,
Without riches or no earthly store,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
I have toiled through those years of my life,
Through sunshine, through storm and rain;
And surely I’d venture my life
To ease her one moment from pain.
I would climb the highest hill of the land,
And I’d swim to the depth of the sea
To get a tip from her lily-white hand,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
Like a sick man that longs for the dawn,
I‘d long for one sight of her eye.
And I’d pray for my own cailín bán
As she’s waiting for me by the stile.
For she is my pride and my joy,
My comfort in life then is she.
For she is my own promised wife,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
Last night as the sun was aglow
And sank right into its rest,
And the clouds like mountains of snow
As they declined to the west.
To be out for to meet my own stór,
And kindly she waited for me
By the old stile by lovely Glandore,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
And when I will call her my own,
It is married we both then will be.
Like a king and a queen in their throne
We’ll be living in sweet unity.
Well we’ll have a home of our own,
And be at our own liberty,
And ‘tis then, sure her name will be known
Yet for Ireland I’ll not tell who she is!
There’s a home in the hills of Glendore,
That sleeps near the broad open sea,
Whilst the rivers that dash through the foam
And the bull rushes wave in the breeze.
The green ivy clings around the door,
And the birds sweetly sing on each tree.
To my darling sweet notes they do pour,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
Her father has riches in store,
Both cattle, corn and wealth,
And fine land by lovely Glandore
While I have my youth and good health.
For she’s the fond maid I adore
And her life she has pledged unto me,
Without riches or no earthly store,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
I have toiled through those years of my life,
Through sunshine, through storm and rain;
And surely I’d venture my life
To ease her one moment from pain.
I would climb the highest hill of the land,
And I’d swim to the depth of the sea
To get a tip from her lily-white hand,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
Like a sick man that longs for the dawn,
I‘d long for one sight of her eye.
And I’d pray for my own cailín bán
As she’s waiting for me by the stile.
For she is my pride and my joy,
My comfort in life then is she.
For she is my own promised wife,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
Last night as the sun was aglow
And sank right into its rest,
And the clouds like mountains of snow
As they declined to the west.
To be out for to meet my own stór,
And kindly she waited for me
By the old stile by lovely Glandore,
‘S ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hí.
And when I will call her my own,
It is married we both then will be.
Like a king and a queen in their throne
We’ll be living in sweet unity.
Well we’ll have a home of our own,
And be at our own liberty,
And ‘tis then, sure her name will be known
Yet for Ireland I’ll not tell who she is!
"In Tom Munnelly’s collection of Tom Lenihan’s songs, 'Mount Callan Garland' this is sung as 'There’s a Home by the Great Avonmore' and the Irish 'Ar Éireann ní neosfainn cé hÍ' (For Ireland I’ll not tell who she is) is given as a title. Tom Munnelly’s note reads:
'Known in Scotland as 'Tweedside', this beautiful air is said to have been written by David Rizzio (or Riccio), musician and secretary to Mary Queen of Scots. His affection for the Queen was manifest and the amount of time he spent in her private chamber the source of much speculation. On March 9th 1566 the unfortunate Italian was dragged from the pregnant Queen's side and butchered before her eyes by a number of dagger strokes.'
He attributes this conclusion to Irish dance music scholar Breandán Breathnach ('Folkmusic and Dances of Ireland', Educational Co. of Ireland, Dublin, 1971.)
Pat MacNamara’s text differs somewhat from Tom’s."
Jim Carroll
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