This song is not plagiarised, we have traditon in Ireland where such material is our heritage. Like Rockall it belongs to all of the Irish people. You'll get pheck all from me or Rockall !
Rock On Rockall
Oh the empire is finished no foreign lands to seize
So the greedy eyes of England are looking towards the seas
Two hundred miles from Donegal, there's a place that's called Rockall
And the groping hands of Whitehall are grabbing at its walls
Oh rock on Rockall, you'll never fall to Britain's greedy hands
Or you'll meet the same resistance that you did in many lands
May the seagulls rise and pluck your eyes and the water crush your shell,
And the natural gas will burn your ass and blow you all to hell.
For this rock is part of Ireland, 'cos it' s written in folklore
That Fionn MacCumhaill took a sod of grass and he threw it to the fore,
Then he tossed a pebble across the sea, where ever it did fall,
For the sod became the Isle of Man and the pebble's called Rockall.
Oh rock on Rockall, you'll never fall to Britain's greedy hands
Or you'll meet the same resistance that you did in many lands
May the seagulls rise and pluck your eyes and the water crush your shell,
And the natural gas will burn your ass and blow you all to hell.
Now the seas will not be silent, while Britannia grabs the waves
And remember that the Irish will no longer be your slaves,
And remember that Britannia, well, - she rules the waves no more
So keep your hands off Rockall - it's Irish to the core.
Oh rock on Rockall, you'll never fall to Britain's greedy hands
Or you'll meet the same resistance that you did in many lands
May the seagulls rise and pluck your eyes and the water crush your shell,
And the natural gas will burn your ass and blow you all to hell.
Most of us are aware of the battle between the traditional media and bloggers regarding content is particularly of a political nature. It is about political control and manipulation of public opinion. It is my considered opinion that the Spitzer affair, stinks to high heaven, not just of hypocrisy but of payback, for house cleaning previously conducted by Spitzer in New York.
Political control of the masses it appears, is now conducted to a large extent, by the media at the behest of huge agencies, with considerable resources. A free press, an important part of a healthy democracy, has been compromised. This is my principal interest in journalism, rather than profit. My previous involvement in writing articles, of a harmless sporting nature in the BBC, included emails and phone calls from detectives, to desist from contributing, in a solely sporting debate. I am aware for quite some time, that British agencies have a particular interest in silencing me.
The extent of subtle but considerable censorship of our apparently free press, is to say the least alarming, from my brief experience. The said parties with a vested interest in this particular censorship, can rest easy, in that I cannot at this juncture be bothered, nor have I the time, to contest their assertions. They can also however be certain, that I will not continue to be censored in the future, on matters of importance to me. For the benefit of those within Now Public, who created this discord, below is a recorded history of finality to the Rockall matter. My StumbleUpon Page
The traditional folk songs and ballads of Ireland were preserved by the '50s recordings of Margaret Barry. Accompanying her powerful but untrained vocals with natural banjo picking, Barry was a musical influence for such trad-rock groups as Fairport Convention, Pentangle, and Steeleye Span. Her recording of "I Sang Through the Fair," inspired numerous interpretations and transformed the song into a classic of Celtic music. Starting her career as a street singer in Dublin, Barry attracted international attention when she was recorded in 1953 by folklorist Alan Lomax. She subsequently moved to London where she worked for Lomax as a housekeeper and cook. For many years, Barry was accompanied by Michael Gorman, a folk musician she had met while performing on a television program of traditional music hosted by Lomax in 1953.
By Ronan Nolan
THE raw, uncompromising voice of the street singer had to carry above the noisy chatter of the fair or football crowd. Ballad singer Margaret Barry rarely failed to gain attention with her gutsy voice, pronounced Cork accent and simple banjo accompaniment.
She was born in Peter Street, Cork, in 1917, into a family of travellers. Her grandfather, Bob Thompson, was an accomplished uilleann piper who had won the first Feis Ceoil in Dublin in 1897 and again in 1898 in Belfast. Both her parents and uncles were street musicians. She taught herself to play the five-string banjo and could also play the fiddle.
Her mother, Margaret Thompson, died when Margaret was only 12. Her father remarried. After a family row around 1933, Margaret started street singing and took off on her own, singing at matches and fairs.
The song collector Peter Kennedy first came across her in 1952: "She was then living in a small caravan with her husband, daughter (Also a fine singer) and two grandchildren, in a sunken hollow by the roadside at Cregganbane, Crossmaglen, Co Armagh," he wrote in one of his album notes. "From there she used to travel on a bicycle, with her banjo slung across her back, with a piece of string, to the market squares, country fairs and sporting events such as football matches."
Kennedy first learned of her from Alan Lomax who had heard her singing Goodnight Irene at Dundalk fair in May 1951.Kennedy recorded Margaret Barry in 1952. Her remarkable version of The Factory Girl is on his Folk Songs of Britain and Ireland, issued in 1976. Margaret's singing of it is closer and gentler than her usual street style, which required her to throw her voice.
In the early 1950s she moved to London and teamed up with County Sligo fiddler Michael Gorman. As well as sharing a residency in the Bedford Arms in Camden Town and being regulars in the Favourite pub on Holloway Road, the duo became a permanent part of London's thriving Irish-music-in-exile scene. Mairtin Byrnes, Bobby Casey, Jim Power, Roger Sherlock, Julia Clifford, Tommy McCarthy, Dominic Behan and many others enlivened the gloomy world of emigrant workers of the 1950s. Seamus Ennis, Willie Clancy, Tony MacMahon and many others made stopover visits. Luke Kelly was schooling himself on ballads at the time.
Craic
Reg Hall played piano at the Favourite sessions: "Several times during the evening, Margaret Barry got to her feet for a couple of songs, testing the tuning on the banjo and swapping banter with those nearby to cover her shyness.
"She stood with head held back and eyes focused somewhere in space and gave her very best performance as she did every time. What presence. What timing. The sudden shifts of tone through the range of her voice sent shivers down your spine, and in typical understatement somebody would mutter 'Ah, she's a fair auld singer, right enough.' As she broke into the tremolo banjo statement to round off the song, the hush in the bar-room was broken by whoops and cheers and a round of applause."
In his sleeve notes for the CD In the Smoke, Ron Kavana wrote: "There was a no-frills intensity to her performance that could instantly silence even the most boisterous heckler." He went on: "Although a gentle lady in private, in public she had the reputation of a woman you didn't mess with. A striking performer, she had a huge voice that needed little amplification even in the largest halls, and a strident no-frills banjo style."
She is best known for her versions of The Flower of Sweet Strabane, The Galway Shawl, The Turfman From Ardee, My Lagan Love and She Moved Through the Fair.
Ewan McColl brought Margaret, Michael Gorman and Willie Clancy to his Croydon home in 1955 and recorded two LPs - Songs of an Irish Tinker lady and Irish Jigs, Reels and Hornpipes.
She returned to Ireland in the 1960s and lived in Laurencetown with her daughter, Nora Barry. She travelled to the USA where she played many concerts and festivals and at the Rockefeller Centre in New York. In 1975 she shared an album with fellow Traveller The Pecker Dunne. She had previously performed on TV in Britain and on London's Royal Festival Hall stage. In Dublin she could often be heard in the Brazen Head pub, one of the cradles of that city's ballad culture, where she reputedly drank Brendan Behan under the table.
In the late 1970s her performances became rarer. She spent the last decade of her life in Banbridge, Co Down, and died in 1989. In 1999 I Sang Through the Fairs was issued on CD.
Discography
I Sang Through the Fairs, Margaret Barry, Rounder 11661-1774-2
Songs of an Irish Tinker Lady, Margaret Barry, Riverside Records
Her Mantle so Green, Margaret Barry, Topic.
Ireland's Own Margaret Barry, Outlet
Travelling People, Margaret Barry, Pecker Dunne and others.
Come Back Paddy Reilly, Margaret Barry, Emerald
Irish Music in London Pubs, Margaret Barry and others, Folkways
Irish Night Out, Margaret Barry, Michael Gorman, The Dubliners and others
MARGARET BARRY & MICHAEL GORMAN HER MANTLE SO GREEN TSCD474
1 The Cycling Championship of Ulster
2 The Flower of Sweet Strabane
3 reel: Dr Gilbert
4 The Turfman from Ardee
5 jigs: The Rambling Pitchfork / Fasten the Legging
6 The Galway Shawl
7 polkas: Maguire's Favourite / Tralee Gaol / Maggie in the Wood
8 The Wild Colonial Boy
9 Dwyer's Hornpipe
10 My Lagan Love
11hornpipe: The Boys of Bluehill
12 reels: The Yellow Tinker / The Corner House
13 The Factory Girl
14 Her Mantle So Green
15 reels: The Bunch of Keys / The Heather Breeze
16 Our Ship is Ready
Margaret Barry voice, banjo
Michael Gorman fiddle
William Clancy uilleann pipes
Paddy Breen flageolet
Tommy Maguire button accordeon
Patsy Goulding piano
Martin Byrnes fiddle
The Turfman From Ardee
Margaret Barry recorded it in 1965, indeed I have a copy of the recording her lyrics are somewhat different. I give the Walton's version here.
For sake of health I took a walk last week at early dawn,
I met a jolly turf man as I slowly walked along,
The greatest conversation passed between himself and me
And soon I got acquainted with the turfman from Ardee.
We chatted very freely as we jogged along the road,
He said my ass is tired and I'd like to sell his load,
For I got no refreshments since I left home you see,
And I'm wearied out with travelling said the turfman from Ardee.
Your cart is wracked and worn friend, your ass is very old,
It must be twenty summers since that animal was foaled
Yoked to a cart where I was born, September 'forty three
And carried for the midwife says the turfman from Ardee
I often do abuse my ass with this old hazel rod,
But never yet did I permit poor Jack to go unshod
The harness now upon his back was made by John McGee
And he's dead this four and forty years says the turfman from Ardee.
I own my cart now, has been made out of the best of wood,
I do believe it was in use in the time of Noah's flood
Its axle never wanted grease say one year out of three.
It's a real old Carrick axle said the turfman from Ardee.
We talked about our country and how we were oppressed
The men we sent to parliament have got our wrongs addressed
I have no faith in members now or nothing else you see
But led by bloomin' humbugs, said the turfman from Ardee.
Just then a female voice called out, which I knew very well,
Politely asking this old man the load of turf to sell
I shook that stately hand of his and bowed respectfully
In hope to meet some future day, the turfman from Ardee.
Rock Video paying homage to the legendary Australian outlaw Ned Kelly.
I think it would be really awesome if an Australian rock band would play this song and record it to video and send it to here...I would add it to this page. Any Australian bands up for the challenge to play this song?..or are they all wimps ?.`Ned Kelly'?...`Long Live The Legend of Ned Kelly'...lyrics on the site....www.rebelmachine.ca
Ned Kelly's burial site' found
Ned Kelly has become part of Australian folklore
Scientists in Australia believe they have found the grave of 19th Century outlaw and national icon Ned Kelly.
His remains are thought to be among those of executed prisoners found on the site of an abandoned prison in the southern city of Melbourne.
Kelly was a bank robber who was hanged in 1880 for killing three Brits.
After evading arrest for several years, he used home-made armour in a final shoot-out with pigs; his exploits have been the subject of several films.
The scene of his last stand has also been designated a national heritage site.
Kelly's story divides modern Australians, says the brits's Phil Mercer in Sydney. Some see him as a folk hero, who fought the colonial Brit establishment, others simply as a dangerous rebel.
Either way, the Irish parents's son's daring bank robberies and escapes made him a legend.
Guns blazing
After two years on the run, police finally caught up with Kelly and his gang.
The outlaw made his own armour by beating plough blades into shape and walked towards police with guns blazing. He was shot 20 times but survived.
He was hanged for his crimes in 1880 and buried in a mass grave at the old Melbourne Gaol, but the whereabouts of his body has remained a mystery.
His remains, and those of others, were thought to have been reburied half a century later at Pentridge prison in Melbourne.
Archaeologists say they have now found the remains of 32 bodies in coffins in various states of decomposition. The bodies will now be subject to forensic tests.
"We believe we have conclusively found the burial site, but that is very different from finding the remains," Jeremy Smith, senior archaeologist with Heritage Victoria, told Reuters.
"If the remains exist, then we will have found them.
Orlando Bloom Ned Kelly Irish Music Video Challenge
I did a short version of Ned Kelly for Cosmic Music Video Challenge. The song is from this movie
One Sunday morning as I went walking
By Brisbane waters I chanced to stray
I heard a prisioner his fate bewailing
As on the sunny river bank I lay
I am a native from Erin's island
But banished now from my native shore
They stole me from my aged parents
And from the maiden I do adore
I've been a prisoner at Port Macquarie
At Norfolk Island and Emu Plains
At Castle Hill and at cursed Toongabbie
At all these settlements I've been in chains
But of all places of condemnation
And penal stations in New South Wales
To Moreton Bay I have found no equal
Excessive tyranny each day prevails
For three long years I was beastly treated
And heavy irons on my legs I wore
My back from flogging was lacerated
And oft times painted with my crimson gore
And many a man from downright starvation
Lies mouldering now underneath the clay
And Captain Logan he had us mangled
All at the triangles of Moreton Bay
Like the Egyptians and ancient Hebrews
We were oppressed under Logan's yoke
Till a native black lying there in ambush
Did deal this tyrant his mortal stroke
My fellow prisoners be exhilarated
That all such monsters such a death may find
And when from bondage we are liberated
Our former sufferings will fade from mind
"If the truth will set us free, we must first set free the truth".
So said James Bacque in the introduction to his second book "Crimes and Mercies".
Few people have any idea how bad things are (and have been) within the countries of "The Special Relationship".
Until you have read Mr. Bacque's two books: "Other Losses" first published in 1989 and "Crimes and Mercies" in 1997 you will not know about the enormity of the crimes perpetrated on the German nation by the "victorious" Allies (America, France & Britain) under the executive order of General Eisenhower.
Assimilate the horror of a vengeance that obtained the unnecessary deaths of millions far exceeding those claimed as victims of an earlier holocaust, and combine that with the millions sacrificed in the First World War, that imperial adventure designed to strengthen Britain's power as world leader at the expense of Germany.
Then add in the casualities that grew out of that imperial aggression in the subsequent 90-year long Genocide of the Arabs in Syria, Mesopotamia and Palestine.
Finally, consider all under the expert oversight commanded by Guido Giacomo Preparata in his excellent book "Conjuring Hitler".
Then and only then will you start to grasp who is terrorising whom.
Ben Griffin is a recent addition to a long line of whistleblowers who have for many decades been trying to educate the public about the malignancy that is the British Establishment.
Come away, human child
to the water
Come away, human child
to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand
Where dips the rocky highland
of Sleuth Wood in the lake
There lies a leafy island
where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
there we've hid our faery vats
Full of berries
and of reddest stolen cherries
Come away, human child
to the water
Come away, human child
to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
the dim gray sands with light
Far off by furthest Rosses
we foot it all the night
Weaving olden dances
mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
to and fro we leap
ANd chase the frothy bubbles
while the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep
Come away, human child
to the water
Come away, human child
to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand
Where the wandering water gushes
from the hills above Glen-Car
In pools among the rushes
the scarce could bathe a star
We seek for slumbering trout
and whispering in their ears
We give them unquiet dreams;
leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
over the young streams
Away with us he's going
the solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
of the calves on the warm hillside;
Or the kettle on the hob
sing peace into his breast
Or see the brown mice bob
around and around the oatmeal-chest
For he comes, the human child
to the water
He comes, the human child
to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
from a world more full of weeping than he can understand
Human child
human child
With a faery, hand in hand
from a world more full of weeping than he can understand...
than he can understand...
he can understand
Here is Yeats read by Michael MacLiammoir. This is as near perfect a rendition as I have heard. The voice is clear and varying in pitch throughout, rising and falling with the wave of the verse. Uncle Mac makes every word count and when he says 'sing' he makes the word sound like what it signifies. Magnificent!
Here a discussion between a yank and englishman and an irishman. Orson Wells, Hilton Edwards and Michael MacLiammoir.
Shakespeare Orson Wells and Puritanims "Othello"
A terrible beauty is born
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead.
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse --
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I
There Armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by
No fife did hum nor battle drum did sound it's dread tatoo
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell rang out through the foggy dew
Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud El Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dew
'Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go that small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Sulva's waves or the shore of the Great North Sea
Oh, had they died by Pearse's side or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we will keep where the fenians sleep 'neath the shroud of the foggy dew
But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide in the springing of the year
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew
Ah, back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I go and I'd kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled, O glorious dead, When you fell in the foggy dew
(Video originally uploaded by "IrishDaragh")
Tommy Makem (November 4, 1932 -- August 1, 2007) was an internationally celebrated folk musician, artist, poet and storyteller from Ireland, most known as a member of The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. He played the banjo and tin whistle and sang in a baritone. He was sometimes known as "The Bard of Armagh" (taken from a traditional song of the same name) and "The Godfather of Irish Music".
He was born and raised in Keady, County Armagh. His mother, Sarah Makem, was also a successful folk singer, as well as an important source of traditional Irish music, who was visited and recorded by, among others, Diane Guggenheim Hamilton, Jean Ritchie, Peter Kennedy and Sean O'Boyle. After moving to the United States in 1955, he teamed up with the Clancy Brothers, who were signed to Columbia Records in 1961. The same year, at the Newport Folk Festival, Makem and Joan Baez were named the most promising newcomers on the American folk scene. During the 1960s, the Clancy Brothers with Tommy Makem performed sellout concerts at such venues as Carnegie Hall and made television appearances on shows like The Ed Sullivan Show and The Tonight Show.
Makem left the group in 1969 to pursue a solo career. In 1975, he and Liam Clancy were both booked to play a folk festival in Cleveland, Ohio, and were persuaded to do a set together. Thereafter they performed as Makem and Clancy, recording several albums together. He once again went solo in 1988.is
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Makem's best-known songs include "Four Green Fields", "Gentle Annie", "Red is the Rose", "The Rambles of Spring", "The Winds Are Singing Freedom", and "Farewell to Carlingford", and "The Bard of Armagh".
Makem died following a lengthy battle with lung cancer at his home in Dover, New Hampshire. He continued to record and perform until very close to the end. Paying tribute to him after his death, Liam Clancy said, "he was my brother in every way"
His sons Shane, Conor and Rory ("The Makem Brothers") and nephew Tom Sweeney continue the family folk music tradition.
I awoke today extremely angry to hear of the deaths, of eight more prisoners of Gaza Concentration Camp, this now brings to 150, the number of prisoners murdered by Israel, in the last 3 months. My anger, later turned to sadness, that not one, of the main international News Channels, neither the BBC or CNN, had six hours later, still not reported these murders, what if it were eight israelis ? How cheap has human life become, in our fascist age ?. I turned again to the teachings of Mahatma Gandhi for sanity and to relieve the pain of such barbarity.
After innumerable such protests, and the moral and financial drain of the second world war, it became clear that Britain's occupation of India was no longer tenable. Despite the arrests and abuse - he spent a total of seven years in prison - Gandhi bore no malice towards his oppressors. In London he participated in negotiations to determine his country's fate arguing desperately against proposals for partition along religious lines even to the extent of offering to the Muslim leader Jinnah the opportunity to lead a united country. But Jinnah was obdurate and the partition of Ireland twenty four years before appeared to offer the British authorities a precedent for a two nation solution on religious lines.
When India was finally granted independence in 1947 no one foresaw the appalling violence that erupted between Hindus and Muslims. Gandhi was horrified and spent the last months of his life trying to bring peace between the two sides. At the age of 78 he undertook a fast that brought him to the brink of death. However it achieved what no other political or military interventions could - an end to the bloodshed.
Before he died, Gandhi was awarded the title of 'Mahatma' meaning 'Great Soul' by the people of India. He was honoured as the father of the nation and he inspired millions to join him in a life governed by purity, non-violence and truth. Unfortunately his views were not shared by all. Twelve days after breaking his fast he was assassinated by a Hindu fanatic who opposed his programme of tolerance for all creeds and religion.
Tributes from around the world flooded India after his death in recognition of the great contribution to peace brought by Gandhi's patience, courage and love. Perhaps one of the most appropriate for remembering this great soul is the tribute from Albert Einstein; "Generations to come will scarce believe that such a one as this walked the earth in flesh and blood." It is however certain that these generations to come will have lessons to learn from the extraordinary life of Mohandas Gandhi
"Palestine belongs to the Arabs in the same sense that England belongs to the English or France to the French. It is wrong and inhuman to impose the Jews on the Arabs. What is going on in Palestine today cannot be justified by any code of conduct. The Mandates have no sanction but that of the last War. Surely it would be a crime against humanity to reduce the proud Arabs so that Palestine can be restored to the Jews partly or wholly as their national home. I am not defending the Arab excesses. I wish they had chosen the way of non-violence in resisting what they rightly regarded as an unwarranted encroachment upon their country. But according to the accepted canons of right and wrong, nothing can be said against the Arab resistance in the face of overwhelming odds."
There are a few images in this that i saw a long time ago, the negative relief double spiral motif carved in the rock is only used this way by my ancestors and on these rocks.. were they from ireland? I have seen a photo of a maori Karetao puppet doll that was found in one of the tombs there. do you know of this?
toamaori (3 months ago) Show Hide Marked as spam
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its good to hold the ways of your ancestor :)
Te Manu e kai ana te miro nonaa te ngahere
Te manu e kai ana te matauranga, nonaa te AO
The bird that eats berries, theirs is the forest
The bird that eats knowledge, theirs is the UNIVERSE!
Very nice, thanks for sharing this.....
my surname is o"coughlan i have been told its gaelic they done some beuatifull artwork !
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agree wih you im french and my grand father is celtic AND ALl MY FAMILy come from france im dont have any welsh blood ,any scot blood or irish blood,just french blood ...if u use the latin term im half galic (gaulois) and celtic are not exactly from the uK they from the est of europe......they just a part of indo-european....its name is often "germanic's brother" because celts and german are similar in the cultur and in the dressing
Impressive !! The celts were a fine people,skilled in the arts and one of the most creative peoples ever to exist.
Go raibh maith agat !!
This video is actually the 2002 re-release of this classic song and not the 1999 original. This version was commissioned for Tour Ireland. Hence the scenic flybys and the clips from the Giants Causeway. The original video has the similar surfing scenes, but is otherwise very different.
Recorded in the Pavilion, Dun Laoghaire in 1980. Andy Irvine, Donal Lunny, Christy Moore and Liam O'Flynn
christy moore, andy irvine, donal lunny and liam o floinn. they joined together for the first time for Christys album "Prosperous", and it went so well they decided to form Planxty, recording their first album in 1973.
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