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29 Jan 04 - 05:59 PM (#1104651) Subject: Lyr Req: The Gaol of Cluain Meala From: GUEST,Jim Lucey I heard this song performed by Luke Kelly back in the 1970's It begins as follows; How sad my misfortune how vain my repining the strong rope of fate for my young kneck is twining my strength is departed my cheeks sunk and sallow while I lie here in chains in the gaol of Cluain Meala. Cluain Meala is Irish meaning 'Vale of Honey' The English form is Clonmel, as in the Co. Tippery Town. If any one has the lyrics or better yet the recording please contact me. seamuslucey@eircom.net |
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29 Jan 04 - 08:24 PM (#1104776) Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Gaol of Cluain Meala From: Malcolm Douglas Beware of variant spellings in song titles, particularly where the language is not English and accents are sometimes used; assuming you tried the onsite search engine, that is, before starting this thread. See: CL_N MALLA DT file. Immediate source not named, but perhaps from a Liam Clancey record. CLUAIN MALLA DT file. Slightly more successful duplicate of above. Lyr Add: Clûn Malla Probably the source of the DT file. Also contains transcriptions from traditional sources in both English and Irish, with background information. Lyr Add: Clûn Malla Later, duplicate posting. Lyr Add: THE JAIL OF CLUAN MEALA (from Dubliners) Text posted to a discussion about a completely different song. It's almost always best to search for a characteristic phrase rather than a title. In this case, all the above were found via a simple search for vain my repining. |
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30 Jan 04 - 08:44 AM (#1105110) Subject: Lyr Add: THE JAIL OF CLUAN MEALA From: Fiolar Here is the complete song. It was written by Jeremiah John Callanan (1795 - 1829). Born in Cork he collected many ballads during his too short life time. Sadly he died in tuberculosis in Lisbon. One of his most famous poems is "Gougane Barra" which was published in 1826. Incidentally "cluan" mean "meadow in Irish. Enjoy. THE JAIL OF CLUAN MEALA How hard is my fortune, how vain my repining. The strong rope of fate for my young neck is twining. My strength is departed, my cheeks sunk and sallow While I languish in chains in the jail of Cluan Meala. No boy in the village was ever yet milder. I could play with a child and my sport be no wilder. I could dance without tiring from morning till evening And my goalball I'd strike to the lightning of heaven. At my bed foot decaying my hurley is lying. Through the lads of the village my goalball is flying. My horse 'mong the neighbours neglected may fallow. While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala. Next Sunday the pattern at home will be keeping. All the lads of the village the fields will be sweeping. And the dance of fair maidens the evening will hallow. While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala. |
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30 Jan 04 - 09:05 AM (#1105129) Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Gaol of Cluain Meala From: Malcolm Douglas For an earlier posting of that text, see the last link given above. |
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01 Feb 04 - 06:54 PM (#1106827) Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Gaol of Cluain Meala From: GUEST Fiolar, Callanan's song was a translation of an Irish language song - info on earlier threads |
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24 Sep 09 - 06:57 AM (#2730279) Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Gaol of Cluain Meala From: GUEST,Gev BArret Luke Kelly The Jail Of Cluain Meala http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUMDcoU7FbE |
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24 Sep 09 - 03:49 PM (#2730636) Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Gaol of Cluain Meala From: Dave MacKenzie THE GAOL OF CLONMEL How hard is my fortune, and vain my repining! The strong rope of fate for this young neck is twining. My strength is departed, my cheek sunk and sallow, While I languish in chains in the gaol of Cluain Meala. No boy in the village was ever yet milder, I'd play with a child and my sport would be wilder. I'd dance without tiring from morning till even, And the goal-ball I'd strike to the lightning of heaven! At my bed-foot decaying my hurl-bat is lying, Through the boys of the village my goal-ball is flying My horse 'mongst the neighbours neglected may fallow, While I pine in my chains in the gaol of Cluain Meala. Next Sunday the patron at home will be keeping, And the young active hurlers the field will be sweeping. With the dance of fair maidens the evening they'll hallow, While this heart, once so gay, shall be cold in Cluain Meala. English words of "Príosún Chluain Meala" by J J Callanan as printed in "Songs of the Irish" ed Donal O'Sullivan. Literal translation of Gaelic song: (i) It will be a year tomorrow since I left home, to go to Ardpatrick, putting lace in my hat. Whiteboys were there, racing at Dunhallow(?), while I lie sad and lonely in the gaol of Clonmel. (ii) My bridle and saddle are lent out this long time, my hurley is warping behind my bed, my ball is being struck by the lads of the valley - and I would hit a goaling-stroke as high as the moon! (iii) Kerrymen, pray for me, I love your soft musical voices, 'tis little I ever thought that I Should not return to you alive: or that our three heads would be exhibited by them on three spikes, in the snow of the night-time, and other weather that might come! (iv) If you go to Iveragh, take the news to my people, that I am condemned on this spot, and only till Friday to live. Get together material for the wake, and a fine coffin for me. That is the end of O'Donnell! and pray for him always! |