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Must have got my first sons name from this song
Ordering all bishops and regular clergy to leave the Kingdom. Many refused to leave and travelled Ireland in disguise often as wandering minstrels and seannachi.
The song Bold Phelm Brady the Bard of Armagh was in reality Bishop Patrick Donnelly from near Cookstown in County Tyrone. He was the Catholic Bishop of Armagh and he refused to leave Ireland . Dr Donnelly had been ordained by Bishop Oliver Plunkett (1651\1681).
He took outlaw refuge in Armagh at Slieve Gullion, which had an altitude of 1893 feet and overlooked the vista landscape of Armagh . He continued his ministry in the guise of an itinerant harpist .He lived in a primitive hut at Lislea, and the area is still know as the Doctor’s quarter .
When the Bishop died in 1716 the people of Armagh under the cover of darkness carried his body back to Cookstown in his beloved county Tyrone.
It is very likely that song is loosely based on the life of Patrick Donnelly but the story is also encrusted in myth. The wife Kathleen in the song is the symbolism of his love for the church and Ireland.
Oh list to the lay of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strains of his old, withered hands
But remember his fingers, they once could move sharper
To raise up the memory of his dear native land
At a fair or a wake, I could twist my shillelagh
Or trip through a jig with my brogues bound with straw
And all the pretty colleens around me assembled
Loved their bold Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh
Oh, how I long to muse on the days of my boyhood
But four score and three years have flitted since then
But they bring sweet reflections, as every young joy should
For, the merry hearted boys makes the best of old men
And when sergeant death, in his cold arms shall embrace me
And lull me to sleep with sweet Erin go bragh
By the side of my Kathleen, my young wife then place me
Then forget Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh
Link to the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem from Armagh singing
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XqGimenRDBw
The song Bold Phelm Brady the Bard of Armagh was in reality Bishop Patrick Donnelly from near Cookstown in County Tyrone. He was the Catholic Bishop of Armagh and he refused to leave Ireland . Dr Donnelly had been ordained by Bishop Oliver Plunkett (1651\1681).
He took outlaw refuge in Armagh at Slieve Gullion, which had an altitude of 1893 feet and overlooked the vista landscape of Armagh . He continued his ministry in the guise of an itinerant harpist .He lived in a primitive hut at Lislea, and the area is still know as the Doctor’s quarter .
When the Bishop died in 1716 the people of Armagh under the cover of darkness carried his body back to Cookstown in his beloved county Tyrone.
It is very likely that song is loosely based on the life of Patrick Donnelly but the story is also encrusted in myth. The wife Kathleen in the song is the symbolism of his love for the church and Ireland.
Oh list to the lay of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strains of his old, withered hands
But remember his fingers, they once could move sharper
To raise up the memory of his dear native land
At a fair or a wake, I could twist my shillelagh
Or trip through a jig with my brogues bound with straw
And all the pretty colleens around me assembled
Loved their bold Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh
Oh, how I long to muse on the days of my boyhood
But four score and three years have flitted since then
But they bring sweet reflections, as every young joy should
For, the merry hearted boys makes the best of old men
And when sergeant death, in his cold arms shall embrace me
And lull me to sleep with sweet Erin go bragh
By the side of my Kathleen, my young wife then place me
Then forget Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh
Link to the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem from Armagh singing
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XqGimenRDBw
Photo Former home of late Sally Humphrey, site of Dr Donnelly’s hut (Doctor’s Quarters)
Musician is deaf to 80%.He hears his music not like you. engl./german
Comment is OK.
Musiker ist zu 80% ertaubt.Er hört seine Musik nicht wie Du.
Kommentare sind erwünscht.
Irish song on Lee's Oscar blues Harp in own version (of quick Rythmus).No cover music.
With WaveLab 1 in the years 2002 or 2004 taken up.For Private CD admissions.
Irish Song auf Lee-Oscar Blues Harp in eigener Version (schneller Rythmus).Keine Cover Musik.Mit WaveLab 1 im Jahr 2002 oder 2004 aufgenommen.Für Privat CD Aufnahmen.
The "Bard of Armagh" Irish Folk Song
is from my first selfproduced CD 2002 (with computer taken up) uncoupled.
Own version, no Cover..
Der "Bard of Armagh" wurde von mir 2002 auf Computer eingespielt.Die Melodie ist eine eigene Version, kein Cover.
The Bard of Armagh is an Irish ballad. It is often attributed to Patrick Donnelly. He was made Bishop of Dromore in 1697, the same year as the enactment of the Bishops Banishment Act. Donnelly is believed to have taken the name of the travelling harper Phelim Brady.
The song itself, like many heroic, rebel outlaw ballads, dates from the mid 19th century, when it was printed as a broadside ballad in Dublin. The same melody is used in the songs "The Sailor Cut Down in his Prime" and "The Streets of Laredo".(txt.:Wikipedia)
Song Lyric:
Oh list' to the tale of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the string of his old withered hands
But remember those fingers they once could move sharper
To raise up the strains of his dear native land
It was long before the shamrock, dear isle's lovely emblem
Was crushed in its beauty by the Saxon's lion paw
And all the pretty colleens around me would gather
Call me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
How I love to muse on the days of my boyhood
Though four score and three years have fled by them
It's king's sweet reflection that every young joy
For the merry-hearted boys make the best of old men
At a fair or a wake I would twist my shillelah
And trip through a dance with my brogues tied with straw
There all the pretty maidens around me would gather
Call me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
In truth I have wandered this wide world over
Yet Ireland's my home and a dwelling for me
And, oh, let the turf that my old bones shall cover
Be cut from the land that is trod by the free
And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms doth embrace
And lull me to sleep with old Erin go bragh
By the side of my Kathleen, my dear pride, oh place me
Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh (lyric txt.with Wikipedia)
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