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Journal of the Irish Folk Song Society, Volume 2, Issue 12, Page 14

Journal of the Irish Folk Song Society, Volume 2, Issue 12, Page 14
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periodical Publisher
Irish Folk Song Society
periodical Editor
[Periodical]
periodical Title
Journal of the Irish Folk Song Society
volume Number
2
issue Content
2627My love he was reared a rich farmers son,And soon his tender heart I won;His love to me he soon revealed,But little I thought of the Nightingale.My cruel father, he ordered soThat aboard his ship my love should go;He got a press gang that did not failTo press him aboard of the Nightingale.Twas the 17th of November last,The wind did blow a most bitter blast,When our ship got ready and fit to sail,To the bottom she went with the Nightingale.The very night my love was lostHe appeared to me as a dismal ghost,I raised my head from my pillow high,And this dismal ghost from me did fly;Tis little I thought that my love should sailTo end his life on the Nightingale.He cried, Nancy, Nancy, dont be surprised,In the Bay of Biscay my body. lies,To become a prey to some shark or whale,So have my life on the Nightingale.My fathers dwelling I will forsake,And to lonesome valleys I will take;In silent shades, where Ill bewailAnd mourn my loss in the Nightingale.mrs. mac Paniaras VersionIll sell my rock, Ill sell my reel,When the flax is spun Ill sell my wheel,Ill buy my love a suit of greenS go dteidh tu a mhuirnin sianIll dye my petticoat, Ill dye it red;And round the world Ill beg my bread,For all my parents wish me deadSo go dbeidh tu a mhuirnin sian.I wish I were on yonder hill;Tis there Id sit and cry my fill,A bhuachailliu aoibhinn aluinn oigBudh leathan do chroidhe, budh dheas do phogMo lena gan mise leat fein go deoSo go dteidh to a mhuirnin sian.Siubhail, suibbail, suibhail a ghraidh,Nil leigheas le faghaii acht leigheas anBhais,0 dfhag to mise is bocht mo chasS go dteidb tu a mhuirnin sian.Is minic do bhreug se me air a ghluin,Ag cur a sgeil dam fein i n.umhal,Acht chaill me e, agus e mo runS go dteidh tu a mhuirnin sian.Shniomh me lion as dhiol me eDhiol me dho mo thuirne feinCheannuigh me oloidheamh do ghradh moehleibhS go dteidh tu a mhuirnin sian.Achb cuireadh ar Righ Seunsas ruaig,As dimthigh na Geana leis ar luathas,o siubha li a Gbraldb,Till every tear would turn a millSo go dteidh tu a mhuirnin sian.Its often I sat on my true loves knee,And many the false story he told to me;He told me things that could never beSo go dteidh to a mhuirnin sian.I wish I were on the top of a wailThe top of a castle would be higher than allId view the hurl and Id spy the ball,And Id know my true love among them all.Do shuidh me sios ar thulach morAg dearcadh air luing a faoi seol,Thionntochainn muileann le gach deorS go dteidh tu a inhuirnin sian.Mo leun gan Seumas teacht I g-croinIs e do sgapfadh naim mo bhronAcht nil aon mhaith I ngol, ochon,S go dteidh tu a mhuirnin sian.Do dheargfainn fein mo ghuna ban,As chuairteochainn an domhan iomlanGo bhfagh me marbh e, no sian,S go dteidh tu a mhuirnin slan.Siubhai, siubhal, siubhal a ghraidhNil leigheas le faghail acht leigheas anBhais,0 dfhag to mise is booht mo chasS go dteidh tu a mhuirnin sian.(Dx. DOUGLAS HYDE.)Old Mrs. Mao Namara, aged 82, lives in a little cottage about one Irish mile outof Tramore. Miss Power, of Tramore, was kind enough to arrange that 1 shouldhear old Eily sing. We brought the phonograph, and soon I was busy taking downthe names of many old ballads that Eily knew. Here is a list : The Girl who wasstolen by the Robber, The Old Woman and her Oat, Nellie Dear (one; verse inIrish and one in English), The Reapers Song. Also a very long ballad of fifty ,,verses, entitled, The Races of Tramore. Then she sang in English the version ofSiubhail a Ghraidh which is published in this Journaland also the words of aballad called The Nightingale, which has been collected by Mr. Frank Kielson andother folk song collectors in England. This version and the ballad may be ofinterest to English collectors; and was evidently a song sung by sailors, and broughtto the County of Waterford by a sea-faring man.Old Mrs. Mac Namara learnt most of her ballads from her parents, who perishedin the year of the famine. Her faculties are bright, and her exclamations wereamusing when the recorder was put on and she heard her own old quavering voicecoming out of the instrument. Oh, Lord Almighty! shure tis bewitched I am.Her astonishment at the phonograph was a delightful thing to remember, Shementioned an old man whom she knew, and added, Ach, if only he was alive andcould sing into that, he would have been the proud man.Cbe Rigbtlngale.In his sailors dress and his visage pale;But little I thought of the Nightingale.These words are different from any others I have seen in the many collections.Mr. A. P. Graves has written beautiful words, founded upon all its existing ones andtranslated into Gaelic by Dr. Douglas Hyde, the music appearing in the Songs ofFour Nations. The last verse, where she sits and watches her lover hurling the bail,is quite unique.Siubball a Gbraklb.(sm iLE AGRA.)I As dimthigh mo bhuachuaiii leo, mo nuair,S go dteidh tu a mhuirnin sian.F
issue Number
12
page Number
14
periodical Author
[Periodical]
issue Publication Date
1967-01-01T00:00:00
allowedRoles
anonymous,guest,friend,member

Journal of the Irish Folk Song Society, Volume 2, Issue 12

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