Dónal Kearney
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Amhráin Gaelach Tradisiúnta

11/3/2015

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"An Cailín Rua"

An Cailín Rua talks of a man who is smitten by a red-haired girl. He travels around all of Ireland with her, spending lots of money on butter, on ribbons, and on shoes for her. Then, in the last verse, we find out that she leaves him for a shop-boy in the west of Ireland. Maybe because he could get her a discount!
Nach doiligh domhsa mo chailín a mholadh,
Ní hé amháin mar bhí sí rua,
Bhí sí mar gha gréine ag dul in éadan na ngloiní,
Is bhí scéimh mhná na Finne le mo chailín rua.

Cúrfa
Thug mé lion í ó bhaile go baile,
Ó Gheaftaí Dhoire go Baile Átha Luain,
Chun fhuil aon mhíle dár shiúil mé ar an fad sin,
Nach dtug mé deoch leanna do mo chailín rua.

B'fhearr liom í ná bó is ná bearrach,
Nó a bhfuil de loingis ag tarraingt chun cuain,
B'fhearr liom arís na cíos Chluain Meala,
Go mbeinn is mo chailín i mBaile Átha Luain.

Cúrfa

Chuir mé mo chailín go margadh Shligigh,
Ba é sin féin an margadh bhí daor,
Bhí scilling agus punt ar an mheánpheicín ime,
Is go dtug mé sin le fuinneamh do mo chailín rua.

Cúrfa

Chuaigh sí siar agus bróga breac' uirthi,
Ribíní glasuaithne teannta ar a gruaig,
D'éalaigh sí uaimse le buachaill an tsiopa,
Is a Rí nár dheas í, mo chailín rua.

Cúrfa
Isn't it hard for me to praise my red-haired girl,
Not only because of her red hair,
She was like a ray of sun reflected through glass,
And she had the beauty of the Finne women.

Chorus
I took her from town to town,
From the gates of Derry to Athlone,
There's not a mile of the way I traveled,
That I didn't give my red-haired girl a drink of ale.

I prefer her to any cow or heifer,
Or all the long ships drawing into the harbor,
I would rather than have all the rent of Clonmel,
To be in Athlone with my red-haired girl.

Chorus

I sent my girl to the Sligo market,
That was the market that was expensive,
A weight of butter cost one guinea,
And I gave it willingly to my red-haired girl.

Chorus

She went west wearing striped shoes,
Her hair tied up with the greenest ribbons,
She left me for a shop-boy,
God, wasn't she lovely, my red-haired girl.

Chorus

And so here you can hear two versions of this lovely little song. Above is a very 1990s - and very cool - version by Aoife Ní Fhearraigh.

The other, below, is an infamous interpretation by Skara Brae, which was first recorded in 1971. Skara Brae is considered to be the first Irish traditional group to add homophonic harmonies in to single-line Irish melodies. Quite the reputation.
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Coinleach Glás an fhomhair

5/3/2015

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In February 2015, Dónal travelled to the USA as a member of Anúna, together with composer Michael McGlynn and sean-nós singer Éabha McMahon, to present at the world-famous American Choral Directors Association (ACDA) National Conference in Salt Lake City, Utah. At the event, he spoke about the Donegal sean-nós song, Coinleach Glás an Fhomhair.

In an infamous version of the song by Clannad, Moya Brennan sings only the first three verses (find the lyrics below). You can hear Dónal's live performance at ACDA - singing the first two verses only - by clicking here. Enjoy!
I first sang this song about ten years ago with Cór na nÓg Caisleán Ruairí under the direction of Siubhán Ó'Dubháin. That group of young people taught me so much about singing. With the incredible, natural voices of everyone involved - all boys and girls local to Rostrevor, County Down - I was surrounded by talent and (more importantly) a total love for music-making. We toured to Wales, Malta and Spain together and I had some of the most rewarding musical experiences of my young life with these singers. Siubhán's boundless creative energy taught us so much and I am still reaping the benefits.

Coinleach Glás an Fhomair is a traditional song from County Donegal, sung in the Irish language. A young man sings of a girl he once saw "on the green-stubble fields of Autumn". He paints a picture of her rosy cheeks and little feet as he remembers her that day, and wishes that they could be together.

In the second verse, the narrator expresses his jealousy of others who may share his interest in the same girl. The mention of the King of Spain sets the song, in my opinion, in the 18th century - around the time of the "Flight of the Wild Geese".

After the Williamite victory over the Jacobite rebellion at the Battle of the Boyne on 12 July 1690, the Jacobite leader, King James, returned to France. The rebellion had sought to bring about the return of the Scottish Stuarts, from James II to his grandson Prince Charles Edwards (aka. Bonny Prince Charlie, ‘The Young Pretender’), to the throne of England. In 1691, the Irish Jacobite army departed Ireland’s shores for France, as had been agreed in The Treaty of Limerick in what became known as the “Flight of the Wild Geese”. Until 1730, thousands of so-called “Wild Geese” soldiers left Ireland to fight in continental armies (mainly in France and Spain), marking the demise of the Jacobite movement in Ireland.

Thus, perhaps from Spain, the narrator looks back to Gweebarra, which places the song in the Gaeltacht region of western Donegal. The metaphor of a swan is introduced in the third and fourth verses. Often in sean nós songs, imagery of the landscape, animals and other natural elements is employed to signify human emotions. For instance, the cuckoo or the blackbird have been used in many songs to symbolise profound sorrow. In this song, the swan can be seen to illustrate the purity of the lovers' relationship. This is perhaps because they have never actually kissed.

In the final, heartbreaking verse, the narrator hears that the young woman is set to marry. He pleads with her. Perhaps the first time he saw her was the previous Autumn, one year before. He promises that he will love her, and urges her to reciprocate. We are told that she wrote to him about her love for him - "go rabh a croí istigh i lár mo chléibh" (her heart is in his chest), so there is a sadness when we learn that she will marry another young man, which is compounded by the fact that he probably heard this devastating news in the form of gossip.

The song leaves us wondering the circumstances of the woman's new marriage. Just as the narrator is left to wonder for himself.

Ar chonnlaigh ghlais an Fhómhair, a stóirín gur dhearc mé uaim
Ba deas do chos i mbróigín 's ba ró-dheas do leagan siubhail.
Do ghruaidh ar dhath na rósaí 's do chúirníní bhí fighte dlúith
Monuar gan sinn 'ár bpósadh Nó'r bórd luinge 'triall 'un siubhail.

Tá buachaillí na h-áite seo a' gartha 'gus ag éirghe teann
Is lucht na gcochán árd a' deánamh fáruis do mo chailín donn
Dá ngluaiseadh Rí na Spáinne thar sáile 's a shlóighte cruinn
Bhrúighfinn féar is fásach 's bhéinn ar láimh le mo chailín donn.

Ceannacht buaibh ar aontaigh' dá mbínn agus mo chailín donn
Gluais is tar, a chéad-searc, nó go dtéidh muid thar Ghaoth-Bearra 'nonn
Go sgartar ó n-a chéile bárr na gcraobh 's an eala ón tuinn
Ní sgarfar sin ó chéile 's níl ach baois díbh á chur 'n mur gcionn.

Chuir mé litir scrófa ions' ar mo 'sweetheart' agus casaoid ghéar,
Chuir sí chugam arís í go rabh a croí istigh i lár mo chléibh,
cum na h-eala is míne 'n síoda 's án cluimh na n-éan
Nach trom an osna nímse nuair a smaointim ar a bheith 'scaradh léi


'Sé chuala mé Dé Domhnaigh mar chómhrá 'gabháil idir mhnáibh
Go raibh sí 'gabháil a pósadh ar óg fhear dá bhfuil san áit.
A stóirín, glac mo chomhairle 's a' fómhar seo fan mar atá
'S cha ligim le 'bhfuil beo thú, a stórín 's tú mo ghrá

On the green stubble-fields of Autumn, I saw you, my sweetheart.
Nice were your feet in shoes and wonderful your nimble gait.
Your two cheeks are the colour of roses and your ringlets tightly plaited.

Alas, that we're not married or on board ship sailing away

The boys around here are laughing and getting bold, and the ones with high hair/tall wigs/top hats [the bourgeosie] are making homes for my brown-haired girl.

If the King of Spain would go abroad with his assembled men,
I’d trample pasture and wilderness to hold the hand of my brown girl.

If only my brown girl and I were buying cows at the fair.
Go and come, my first love, until we go over to Gweebarra.
Even if the tops of the branches were parted and the swan were separated from the waves,
We’d not be separated, and those who try are nothing but fools.


I wrote a letter to my sweetheart containing a sharp complaint.
She wrote back to me that her heart was within my chest,
the shape of a swan finer than silk or bird feathers;
Heavy is my sigh when I think of being apart from her.

I heard on Sunday, in conversation among the women,
that she was to be married to a young man from the place.
Darling, take my advice and this Autumn, stay as you are;

As long as you live, my darling, you will be my love.
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Báidín fhéilimí

12/2/2015

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Amhráin gaelach tradisiúnta #3

This is a children’s song originating from the Donegal Gaeltacht in the north-west of the county. The song tells the story of a small boat owned by a man called Feilimí (Phelim) on a journey to Gola Island, and subsequently to Tory Island, off the coast of Donegal.

The song tells the story of Feilimí Cam Ó Baoill, a chieftain of the Rosses, West Donegal in the 17th century. He had to take to the Islands off Donegal to escape his archenemy Maolmhuire an Bhata Bhuí Mac Suibhne. At first, Feilimí sailed to Gola island, which is less than two kilometres off the coast of Gaoth Dobhair.
Tory Island was more inaccessible and isolated than Gola island, which is reason enough for Feilimí’s decision to sail beyond Gola onwards to Tory Island. It would provide for a safer refuge. However, Feilimí’s little boat was not sturdy enough and he never survived the journey.

Words

Báidín Fheilimí d’imigh go Gabhla,
Báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann.
Báidín Fheilimí d’imigh go Gabhla,
Báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann.

(Cúrfa)
Báidín bídeach, báidín beosach,
Báidín bóidheach, báidín Fheilimí
Báidín díreach, báidín deontach
Báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann.


Báidín Fheilimí d’imigh go Toraí,
Báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann.
Báidín Fheilimí d’imigh go Toraí,
Báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann.

(Cúrfa)

Báidín Fheilimí briseadh i dToraí,
Iasc ar bord agus Feilimí ann.
Báidín Fheilimí briseadh i dToraí,
Iasc ar bord agus Feilimí ann.

(Cúrfa)
Phelim's little boat went to Gola,
Phelim's little boat and Phelim in it,
Phelim's little boat went to Gola,
Phelim's little boat and Phelim in it.

(Chorus)
A tiny little boat, a lively little boat,
A buoyant little boat, Phelim's little boat,
A straight little boat, a willing little boat,
Phelim's little boat and Phelim in it.


Phelim's little boat went to Tory,
Phelim's little boat and Phelim in it,
Phelim's little boat went to Tory,
Phelim's little boat and Phelim in it.

(Chorus)

Phelim's little boat crashed on Tory,
Fish on board and Phelim in it,
Phelim's little boat crashed on Tory,
Fish on board and Phelim in it.

(Chorus)
Picture
Picture
Since the 1960s, Gola island (pictured above) has been uninhabited by humans. And to this day, the proud people of Tory Island (below) boast their very own native King!
“This remote island, two and a half miles long and three quarters of a mile wide, withstands the full fury of the North Atlantic winter to blossom once again in the soft summer sunlight."
Picture
Picture
Typical of many children’s stories, Baidín Fheilimí is a dark tale; effectively a boat chase, leading to the desperate decision to try to find a better hiding place… and, ultimately, the death of our chieftain hero below the wild Atlantic waves.
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