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[The Sea-weed of the Mountain] Irish Folk/Gaelic

1. An Faoitín [The Whiting]
2. Dúlamán na Binne Buí [The Sea-weed of the Yellow edging]
3. Geaftaí Bhaile Buí [The Gates of the Yellow Town]
4. Grá mo Chroí Thú, ‘Mhóirín [You are the love of my heart, Moreen]
5. Casadh an tSúgáin [The Twisting of the Rope]
6. A Bhean Udaí Thall [O, woman over yonder] – story & song
7. Críocha ‘n Oileáin Úir [The Territory of the New Island]
8. Peigín agus Peadar [ Pegeen and Peter]
9. Bean an Fhir Ruaidh [The Red-haired Man’s Wife] – story
10. Bean an Fhir Ruaidh [The Red-haired Man’s Wife] – song

Dúlamán a’ tSléibhe [Seoirse Ó Dochartaigh & Dúlamán] Errigal SCD008 [2002]

 

“Dúlamán a’tSléibhe”

Seoirse Ó Dochartaigh and the band Dúlamán

Errigal  SCD 008

A fine collection of Donegal Gaeltacht songs and stories all given the inimitable Seoirse Ó Dochartaigh treatment, whose solo albums on Errigal you may have already heard.

Dúlamán, as a band, had been touring Scotland, Ireland and the Continent since the group was formed in 1997. Behind the scenes, Seoirse was working on a project for the band embracing two full albums, the first of which was released as “Tabhair ar ais an Oíche Aréir” [Bring me back last night], Errigal SCD 007.

The emphases on the first CD was on strong, three-part close harmonies, with or without accompaniment, and the occasional use of a spoken voice. On this new album, Seoirse has continued with the vocal harmony treatment but taken the spoken voice a stage further by introducing two traditional stories closely bound up with song: a tradition, alas, all but vanished from the Gaeltachts.

A fairly unique aspect of Dúlamán also is an attempt they have made at story-telling using the accompaniment of chant-like, backing vocals, as opposed to the more traditional solo voice of the seanchaí. This should not be seen as attempt at improving an otherwise perfect art-form in itself, but as a way of bringing song and story closer together, and, perhaps, in the process, making the whole thing a little more listener-friendly!

Seoirse Ó Dochartaigh agus Dúlamán – Dúlamán a’ tSléibhe (Errigal SCD008)

This one took a while to grow.  Somehow we missed the point on first listen. But subsequent spins shed a whole new light and, to be honest, it’s been a frequent visitor to the old CD player ever since.

Ó Dochartaigh (vocals and guitar) is one half of Dúlamán.  His sparring partner is Heather Innes (vocals).  On this album they are joined by too many outstanding musicians to list.  The result is a richly layered recording of traditional songs, given a contemporary, polished presentation.  However the presentation is not just a gloss.  Dúlamán a’ tSléibhe is a triumph of both content and style!

Ó Dochartaigh’s voice is a sonorous, warm, natural and gentle one.  And in the course of several days’ listening, it has become a familiar sound in Pay The Reckoning towers, soothing the savage beast!  Innes’ voice is no less interesting, whether lending colour and texture to songs on which Ó Dochartaigh takes the lead, or on songs on which she is the lead vocalist.

There are a fair number of well-known songs on the album.  The opener “An Faoitín”, for example, is one which will be familiar to many.  So too “Casadh an tSúgáin”.  However there are equally a number of songs which will be new to most listeners.  A prime example is the album’s second song “Dúlamán Na Binne Buí” for which O Dochartaigh composed a new melody.

A particular feature of the album is Ó Dochartaigh’s rekindling of the old tradition of combining storytelling and song.  Thus “A Bhean Udai Thall” and “Bean an Fhir Ruaidh” have both story and song elements.

We would recommend three tracks in particular as highlights of the album.

The first is “Críocha ‘n Oileáin Úir”, on which Heather is joined by Imealda Ní Chearbhaill in a unison duet which in its simplicity, directness and sweetness calls to mind the singing of Rita and Sara Keane.

The second is the tastefully arranged version of “Peigín agus Peadar” in which Innes duets again with Ní Chearbhaill and ó Dochartaigh duets with Aodh Mac RuairÍ.  The interweaving of the jig “The Basket Of Turf” through the track is an arresting and inspired piece of musical direction.

But the track which best highlights the particular qualities of Ó Dochartaigh’s voice is the beautiful “Geaftaí Bhaile Buí”.  The naturalness of Ó Dochartaigh’s approach to singing and his commitment to telling the story are much in evidence in this intense and moving piece.

Pay The Reckoning would contend that after listening to a CD by a great musician, the listener comes away with a sense of the personality of the artist who has made the music.  In which case we can only assume that Ó Dochartaigh is an inordinately sensitive, thoughtful, compassionate and courageous individual. Spend some time in his company

Aidan Crossey, Pay The Reckoning

 

1. An Faoitín

Curfá:

Faoitín túralá ‘gus faoitín túralad-í-ó

Faoitín túralá sé an faoitín ‘breac is measa liom

Faoitín túralá agus faoitín túralad-í-ó.

1.

Nach mór i gceist a’ liamhán ag iascairí na Gaillimhe

Ach is fearr go mór an faoitín ós air a gheofá an tairbhe

Faoitín túralá agus faoitín túralad-í-ó.

2.

Tá iasc ag daoine móra á chur anonn go Sasana

‘Gus d’fhága siad an faoitín ‘s a Dhia nach mór an scannail é,

Faoitín, is rl.

3.

 

Sailligí na haobha ‘gus íocfaidh siad an salann daoibh

Is dheamhan a’ fearr daoibh im ná na haobha fríd an “stirabout”.

Faoitín, is rl.

4.

 

‘S dá bhfeicfeá Máire Mhór ‘ghabháil suas Sráid an Mhargaidh

Faoitín ‘n achan láimh léithe sí dh’iarraidh a stór a mhealladh léi

Faoitín, is rl.

5.

 

Grá mo chroí, mo stóirín, ‘sí nach ndéanfeadh dadaí liom

‘Sí chuirfeadh na prátaí móra i dtaisce ar leic an teallaigh domh.

Faoitín, is rl.

 

6.

 

Is orú ‘Mháire Mhór, ‘sa Mháire a dtiocfá abhaile liom

Mura dtiocfaidh tú mar gheall tú go mbáitear insan daingean thú!

Faoitín, is rl.

 

The Whiting

 

This was originally a song of occupation – or a work song – sung by the Connemara people when they were gutting fish. As in all work songs, the repetitiveness of the words, coupled with the rhythm of the music, relieved the monotony of the work. The song’s simple structure would have provided the singers with improvisory possibilities similar to the waulking songs of the Hebrides.

What we have here in Ireland –exemplified by this particular song – is a remnant of an older way of life. Having lost all their extemporary qualities, work songs survive now only fossils, frozen by the passing of time and by the changing of customs. The songs still continue to be sung, but do not function as work songs any more.

 

It was learned from the singing of Máire Áine Nic Dhonnacha from Camus, Connemara.

 

2. Dúlamán na Binne Buí

 

1.

A ‘níon mhín ó, sin anall na fir shuirí !

A mháthair mhín ó, cuir mo roithleán go dtí mé !

 

Curfá:  Dúlamán na Binne Buí, Dúlamán-a-Gaelach,

Dúlamán na Binne Buí, Dúlamán-a-Gaelach

Dúlamán na Binne Buí, Dúlamán-a-Gaelach,

Dúlamán na Binne Buí, Dúlamán-a-Gaelach,

 

Tá ceann buí óir ar a’ Dúlamán Gaelach;

Tá dhá chluais mhaola ar a’ Dúlamán Gaelach

 

3.

Tá mo ‘níon a dhul a pósadh ar a’ Dúlamán Gaelach;

Gan stocaí, gan bhróga, is a léine ina bratógaí.

 

4.

Rachaimid ‘un an Iúir leis a’ Dúlamán Gaelach;

Ceannochaidh mise bróga daora ar a’ Dúlamán Gaelach.

 

5.

Bróga breaca dubha ar a’ Dúlamán Gaelach;

Tá bairéad agus triús ar a’ Dúlamán Gaelach.

 

6.

Chuir mé scéala chuici go gceannochainn slipper shoes dí;

‘s é an scéala a chuir sí chugam go ndéanfadh button boots í

 

7.

Is cosúil Billí Buach leis a’ Dúlamán Gaelach,

‘s ronna ar a shúile agus drúcht ar a fhéasóg.

 

8.

Cad é thug tú ‘na tíre? arsa ‘n Dúlamán Gaelach.

Ag suirí le do níon, arsa ‘n Dúlamán Maorach.

 

Chan fhaigheann tú mo ‘níon, arsa ‘n Dúlamán Gaelach.

Maise, fuadóidh mé í liom, arsa ‘n Dúlamán Maorach.

 

10.

Dúlamán na Binne Buí, Dúlamán a’ tSléibhe,

Dúlamán na Farraige, Dúlamán a’ Déididh.

 

 

 

The Dúlamán [Seaweed] with the Yellow Edging

 

 

This particular variant of the ubiquitous Dúlamán song stems from the fiddling of Neilly Boyle, the fiddle maestro of the Rosses, Co. Donegal. To fit words to an instrumental rendering of a song, recorded by Neilly in the 1930s, proved a very daunting task. In the end, I had to compose a new melody over what appears to have been a Donegal highland rhythm intended for a kitchen dance of some kind. Neilly’s Dúlamán may well be his own improvisations on a version of the song he had heard, but might also have been a version he picked up from older musicians who knew the Tarlach Mac Suibhne’s uilleann pipe variations on that same song. Mac Suibhne was a famous 19^th-century piper from Gweedore. However it came about, Neilly’s Dúlamán na Binne Buí is now singable, having, hopefully, survived this rather rigorous reversal process!

I have kept to the theme of coats, hats, leggings and footwear in my editing of the verses – just to give the song a stronger focus. The Dúlamán men, remember, were deadly dressers; they were the “spivs” and travelling salesmen of old, arriving in town in great colour and splendour, charming all the women and selling their seaweed to all and sundry.  Not every mother would have approved, of course.

 

3. Geaftaí Bhaile Buí

 

I.

Ag geaftaí Bhaile Buí a rinne mise an gníomh

A bhí amaideach baoth-dhéanta

Ealódh le mnaoi seal tamaillt insan oíche

Ar neamh-chead ‘a raibh faoi na spéartha

Mar bhí mé lag gan bhrígh gan mhisneach i mo chlí

‘S í agam ar mhín shléibhe

Bhí an codladh ‘a mo chloí ‘gus b’éigin domhsa luí

Agus d’imigh sí ‘na fíor-mhaighdean.

 

2.

‘Gabháil a luí don ghréin fán am seo aréir

Is agamsa bhí ‘n scéala buartha

Ba é a shamhailt domhsa a’ té a shínfí insa’ chré

Ó’s a Mhuire, nach mé an truaighe!

‘Sé deirfeadh mo chairde a’ méid acu bhí ‘láthair

“Altaigh leis na mná, a bhuachaill”

‘S a’ méid a ngoillfeadh orthu mo chás ghoillfeadh siad a saith

Fa mo chroí a bheith ‘mo lár ‘na ghual dubh.

 

 

3.

Dá mbínn-se thall sa Spáinn ‘mo luí ar leabaí ‘n bháis

Agus chluinninn-se do dháil in Éirinn.

Go n-éireóchainn chomh sámh leis an bhradán ar a’ tsnámh

I nduibheagán i lár na hÉirne.

Focal ar bith mná ní chreidfidh mé go brách

‘Mura bhfá’ mise scríobhtha i mBéarla é

Gur chaith mé naoi lá ag cleasaíocht leis a’ bhás

A’ dúil go bhfuighinn spás ar éigin.

 

4.

Ó, a Mhuire (a)gus a Rí, nach mairg a bíos

I dtoiseach an tsaoil le pléisiúir

‘Gus a ghiorracht is a bíos an tinneas a’ do chloí

‘S ‘a do tharraingt ar na críocha déanacha

Níl sé ar a’ domhan ní ar bith ba mhó

Is peacaí (a)gus is mó dá ndéantar

Ná an mhaighdean deas óg a mhealladh le do phóig

Is a fágáil faoi bhrón ‘na dhiaidh sin.

 

The Gates of the Yellow Town [Athboy?]

 

One of the “big” songs of West Donegal, this particular one is now only heard in Ranafast.  It’s a rather intense love song with undertones of bitterness and loss. The man who is speaking in the song has taken his sweetheart, late one night, to a favourite nook up in the mountains, but has fallen asleep… at the opportune moment, as they say!  She leaves him there and then with her virginity intact [“…d’imigh sí ‘na fíor-mhaighdean.”].  It would seem from the text that she has in fact found another suitor, and the subsequent sequence of events leaves the man heart-broken and distrustful of all women. In the last verse, however, there is an indication that he was perhaps the architect of his own demise.

 

I learned this song from the singing of Hughie Phádaí Hiúdaí [Aodh Ó Duibheannaigh] of whom I had both the pleasure and privilege of knowing for many years. Countless summer evenings were spent in his company listening to his stories and songs till the wee hours of the morning.

 

4. Grá Mo Chroí Thú, ‘Mhóirín

 

1.

Grá mo chroí thú, ‘ Mhóirín

A stóirín mhín a mhargaidh

Is blasta guth do bheoilín

Mar smóilín binn ag cantaireacht.

 

Curfá:                              Órú stór, a stóirín

Órú stór a’ dtiocfaidh tú

Órú stór, a stóirín,

A chúilín óir, a’ dtiocfaidh tú?

 

 

2.

Dubhrais liom, a stóirín

‘S mhóidís domh go dtiocfá chugham

Seo ‘nseo mé ar thaobh an bhóithrín

Go brón-chroíoch is mé ‘feitheamh ort.

 

 

3.

 

Dubhrais liom, a Mhóirín,

A stóirín chroí, go dtiocfá chugham

Ach chím na ba sa chlós thíos

‘S is dóigh liom nach dtiocfaidh tú.

 

4.

 

Dubhrais liom, a Mhóirín

‘S mhóidís domh go dtiocfá chugham

Seo chugainn buí ‘n tráthnóna

A stóirín ó och! brostaigh ort.

 

You’re the Love of my Heart, Moreen

 

A fair amount of resuscitation was needed to bring this beautifully simple love-song from Munster back to life again. I heard it first in a choral arrangement on a very poor quality cassette tape; it was almost impossible to make out the main melody.  But I was very taken by both the music and the poetry, particularly the beautiful assonants in the first verse, and thought it worth the effort.  The words weren’t to be found in the usual song-books, but eventually turned up in Séan Óg Ó Tuama’s  long out-of-print Cóisir Cheoil [IV]. Our singer’s task then was to give the song a more sean-nós feel to it, having been presented with the mere skeleton of a melody, and that’s what you hear on this album in Heather’s final version.

 

The man in the song is totally besotted by Moreen, the golden girl from the valley below whose melodically seductive voice makes even the music of the thrush sound out of tune. He meets her at the fair and she promises to pay him a visit that same evening, and in his anxiousness to see her, he stands in his own lane-way waiting to get a glimpse of her walking the road. After what seems like an eternity of waiting, he sees her cows being brought in for the night and lights go out in her little cottage… but there’s no sign of Moreen. The sun eventually goes down on all his hopes and desires.

 

5. Casadh an tSúgáin

 

1.

 

A Rí na bhFeart cad a chas insan dúthaigh seo mé ?

Níos mó cailín deas a gheobhainn im’ dhuthaigín beag féin

Nó gur casadh mé isteach mar a raibh searc agus grá geal mo chléibh’

‘S chuir an tseanbhean amach mé ag casadh an tsúgáinín féir.

 

Curfá:-                Má bhíonn tú liom bí liom, a stóirín mo chroí

Má bhíonn tú liom, bí liom os comhair an tsaoil

Má bhíonn tú liom, bí liom, gach orlach ded’ shlí.

‘Sé mo lom go fann nach liom Dé Domhnaigh thú mar mhnaoi.

 

2.

 

Tá mo cheann-sa liath le bliain is ní le críonnacht é

Is ní bheathaíonn na bréithre na bráithre pé sa domhan scéal é;

Is táim-se ‘d’ dhiaidh le bliain ‘s gan fáil agam ort féin,

‘S gur gheall le fia mé ‘r shliabh go mbeadh gáire con ‘na dhiaidh!

 

3.

 

Ó, threabhfainn, d’fhuirsfinn is chuirfinn síol insa chré,

Sheolfainn na gamhna ar a‘ talamh is fearr le a bhfaighfidís féar

Is chuirfinn crú fén each is mire shiúil riamh ar féar

‘S ní éalódh bean le fear nach ndéanfadh sin féin.

 

The Twisting of the Rope

 

There is a suggestion in the book “An Grá in Amhráin na nDaoine” that a special class of harpers who were also poets composed many of our great songs in Irish. These song-makers would have flourished in the centuries before O’Carolan’s time; that is, during the 17^th century and before.  Their names are now lost to us but some of their songs, in fragmentary form at least, have survived to this day, having been kept alive by countless generations of Gaeltacht singers. One such song is “Casadh an tSúgáin”.

The melody is one of the finest we have: a truly inspired piece of musical invention, worthy, I believe, of any of the great composers of European classical music.

The words are equally inspired.  No translation could do it justice.  The poet has been “evicted” from the house of his sweetheart. As he stands on the street, he sings to her straight from the heart. This is a translation of the song’s chorus:

 

            If you are to be with me, be with me, little treasure of my heart,

            If you are to be with me, be with me, in the eyes of the world;

            If you are to be with me, be with me, every inch of your way;

            It’s a pity you’re not with me on a Sunday as my wife.

 

Our poet/harper has been visiting his loved one this particular day, but her mother, all the while, has been thinking of an effective way of getting him out of the house. We can’t really tell from the song the reason why the old woman disapproves of him so much, but she asks him to twist a straw rope [a “súgán”]. As he twists away towards the door, she tells him to continue twisting outside the house. When he is at a safe distance, the old woman jumps up, closes the door in his face and bolts it firmly. She then throws his harp out the window!

In one Connemara version of the song, the bewildered poet extols his own sexual capabilities in no uncertain terms. [Can this have something to do with the old woman’s disapproval?]

 

Agus rinne mise cleas i dtigh Mhac Uí Dhomhnaill aréir,

        ‘S an tarna cleas i dteach an ósta lena thaobh.

        An tríú cleas ní fearr domh cur le mo scéal –

        Nach minicí bean a chaithfeadh a dúthracht mhaith léi.

 

        [And I did the “trick” in Sonny O’Donnell’s house last night,

         And the second “trick” in the hotel next door,

        The third “trick”…better if I don’t elaborate!

        It isn’t too often that a woman performs with such zeal!]

 

Perhaps his promiscuity was the reason for the dilemma he found himself in.

 

 

7. Críocha ‘n Oileáin Úir

 

1.

I bhfad ó bhaile thriall mo stór

Go críocha ‘n Oileáin Úir

Is d’fhág sí mé anseo faoi bhrón

‘S gan triomú ar mo shúil.

Luaigheadh mé léithe i dtús mo lae,

‘S nach trua leat féin mo scéal-

Ó grá mo chroí mo chailín deas

‘S í thógfadh domhsa cian.

 

2.

Is mór mo chumhaidh ‘do dhiaidh a rún

Ó d’éalaigh tú thar toinn.

Tá ‘n saol faoi ghruaim, tá an aimsir fuar,

Tá mé cráite buartha tinn.

Beo ní bhead le cumhaidh ‘do dhiaidh,

‘S stór tá mé cloite i bpéin –

Ó grá mo chroí mo chailín deas

‘S í thógfadh domhsa cian.

 

3.

A rún mo chléibh’  ‘nois pill arís

Go bpóstar mé ‘gus tú.

Beidh só ‘gus aoibhneas inár saol

‘S beidh buaireadh ‘n tsaoil ar shiúl.

Beidh saol a’ phósta séanmhar sóúil

Suáilce sona suairc –

Ó grá mo chroí mo chailín deas

‘S í thógfadh domhsa cian.

 

The Territory of the New Island [America]

 

This song, about loneliness and rejection, was written by the prolific songwriter from Ranafast,

Seaghán Bán Mac Grianna. The man in the song has a sweetheart who has emigrated to

“The New Island” – the Gaeltacht people’s special name for America.

His grief is inconsolable. Only her swift return to Donegal would lift his sad heart and dry up

his tears.  If she were to return, he would promise her a blissful, trouble-free married life and

all the comforts she could ever dream of – an offer hard to refuse, if it were true.

 

The tune is probably better known as The Lonely Banna Strand,  but, no doubt, that

particular melody in turn was originally from an older Gaelic song now forgotten.

 

The simple unison kind of singing favoured here by Iméalda and Heather in this recording is

based on a South Donegal style, which, unfortunately, is no longer, practised. Local women in the

Parish of Inver used to sing old ballads together just like this: two voices in unison, rather high

but gentle and lyrical at the same time, and simply ornamented.

 

I heard the song one morning on Raidió na Gaeltachta, sung very sweetly indeed by the twin

daughters of Gearóidín Bhreathnach – Sinéad and Deirdre.  Gearóidín is a well-known sean-nós

singer herself and a close relation of Seaghán Bán Mac Grianna.  She is a daughter of the

famous seanchaí , Néidí Frainc Mac Grianna. It is gratifying to think that a tradition can start

to flourish again if the seeds are planted in fertile soil.

 

 

8. Peigín agus Peadar

 

1.

 

A Pheigín na gcarad is a Pheigín mo chroí

Cé hé an fear fada údan sínte leat síos?

 

Curfá:                    hó-a, hó-a, hó mhaithin ó  a

hó-mhaithin ó a stóirín mo chroí.

 

2.

 

A Pheadair na gcarad is a Pheadair mo chroí,

Sin é do leanbh nach bhfaca tú ariamh!

 

3.

 

Ó, shiúil mise thoir agus shiúil mise thiar

Ach féasóg ar leanbh ní fhaca mé ariamh!

 

4.

 

A Pheigín na gcarad is a Pheigín mo chroí,

Éirigh ‘do sheasamh is réitigh greim bídh.

 

5.

 

Is a Pheadair na gcarad is a Pheadair mo chroí,

Níl insan teach againn greim mine buí.

 

6.

 

Is a Pheigín na gcarad is a Pheigín mo chroí,

In íochtar mo mhála tá cáca mine buí.

 

7.

 

A Pheadair na gcarad is a Pheadair mo chroí,

Tá an cáca seo agat lán de ghineachaí buí!

 

8.

 

A Pheigín is a mhaicín, suífimid síos,

Ní fhágfad an baile, cionn is mhairfeas mé arís.

 

Peigín and Peadar

 

The tradition of telling a story as an integral part of a song has all but gone in Ireland – and I don’t mean just a mere “explanation” of a song. The two were inseparable really. Nowadays, we usually just get the song.  Very occasionally we get the story, but without that connecting song. This whole severing process marks a profound fragmentation of one of our country’s finest indigenous traditions.  Peigín agus Peadar  is one such example. It’s told in Ranafast – as a story called “Na trí comhairlí ” [The three pieces of advice] – but the song isn’t known there. The song, minus the story, is what you mostly get in Connemara, although I have heard Seosamh Ó hÉanaí once telling a version of the story in English. Unfortunately, we were unable to include our rather long rendering of the story on this disc, but we often do it in concert. The following is a synopsis:

The Story : A poor man, Peadar, leaves his young wife in search of work, and stays away for twenty-one years. His employer offers him either his full wages, or a cake of yellow meal plus three pieces of advice. He accepts the latter. On his journey home he finds the advice very useful, because he has avoided being robbed, beaten up and murdered. He also saves an innocent man from the gallows because he overhears murderers planning to kill an old man and  put the blame on the innocent man.

The last piece of advice prevents him from killing his own son by simply smoking his pipe rather than doing something rash. On his return home, he thinks, when he sees a young man [his grown-up son] in his bed, that Peigín has been unfaithful to him. But it all works out well in the end…  with a little unexpected bonus!

 

The Song:  In the opening verse, Peadar is enquiring who the long man is stretched out beside her. Peigín says that that’s his own child whom he has never seen before. “ I’ve walked east and west and I’ve never seen a child before with whiskers on ”, he says.  He then asks Peigín to get up to make a bite to eat, but she says that there is not a grain of yellow meal in the house. Peadar then tells her that there is a cake of yellow meal in the bottom of his bag.

When she cuts it open, to everyone’s surprise, the cake is full of golden guineas!  “Peigín and my little son, let’s sit down,” he cries, “ I’ll never leave the house again as long as I live! ”

 

The song was learned from a recording of the singing of Seosamh Ó hÉanaí, and the story, as told by Micí Sheáin Néill Ó Baoill of Ranafast, is to be found in the book “Lá De Na Laethaibh”, ed. Lorcán Ó Searcaigh. The jig used in the arrangement is “The Basket of Turf”.

 

9. Bean an Fhir Ruaidh

 

An Scéal

 

Bhuel, bhí táilliúir san áit seo fad ó shoin agus ní ar an táilliúir is mó atá iomrá air anois ach ar a iníon.  Bhí ‘níon aige agus bhí sí ar chailín ba dóighiúil agus a chonaic súil ariamh.   Níl a fhios agam anois cé acu feabhas cuid táilliúireachta an athra nó áilleacht na hóigmhná a bhí a’ tarraing na bhfear óg don áit, ach tá a fhios agam an méid seo go raibh an seantáilliúir ag fáil i bhfad níos mó ná a shaith oibre le déanamh, oiread oibre agus go mb’éigin dó fógra a chur amach ag iarraidh cuidigh.

Ní raibh i bhfad go dtáinig sin chuige beirt de bhuachaillí óga gasta, fear rua agus fear bán. Chuaigh a’ bheirt ag obair agus ní raibh i bhfad gur thit a’ bheirt acu i ngrá leis an chailín óg. Agus ar ndóigh ba leor sin an chatharnacht a bhriseadh eatarthu ach rinne sí a rogha don fhear bhán. B’fhearr léi an fear bán ná an fear rua.

 

Ar scor ar bith, bhí an fear rua ansin lán éid agus ní raibh a fhios aige féin cad é an dóigh a dtiocfadh leis déanamh ar shiúl leis an fhear eile… agus tráthnóna amháin, bhí siad ag táilliúireacht agus dúirt an seanduine “Bhuel, a bhuachaillí,” ar seisean, “sílim go bhfuil lá fada go leor déanta againn. Beidh muid réidh leis. Bhuel, ar mhiste leat” arsan fear rua, “gheall mise culaith do fhear atá a dhul a phósadh gan mhoill agus gheall mé go mbeadh sí réidh agam maidin amárach agus ba mhaith liomsa dá ligfeá-sa suí síos mé.”

Ó, tá sin ins do chomhairle féin,” dúirt an seantáilliúir, “ach caithfidh mise

stad.”

D’imigh an fear bán agus an cailín amach a’ spaisteoireacht agus chuaigh

siad amach ar gcúil an tigh  agus shuigh siad ag bun crainn thall sa gharraí,

tamailt ag suirí, creidim.

Chuaigh an fear bán, an seantáilliúir agus a bhean agus iad uilig fá chónaí

agus shuigh an fear rua ar fad.  Nuair a fuair sé uilig ina gcodladh iad,

bhí bocsa mór sciana agus spunógaí airigid ag bean a’ tigh agus thug sé

leis iad agus chuir sé isteach i mála an fhir bháin iad.  Maidin lá arna

mhárach chrothnaigh bean a’ tigh na huirlisí seo. Chuir sí ceist ar

an fhear rua. Dúirt sé nach bhfacaí..  Chuir sí ceist ar an fhear bhán

agus dúirt seisean nach bhfacaí ar chor ar bith iad, agus an ceart ag an

duine bhán, ní fhacaí.

Scairt sí isteach ar an arm go gcuardódh siad an teach. Cuardódh an teach.

Fuarthas na rudaí i mála an fhir bháin agus tugadh ar shiúil gaibhte

chun an phríosúin é agus cuireadh roimh an chúirt é agus fuair

sé príosúntacht as gadaíocht

Nuair a bhí an phríosúntacht istigh – bhí a lán ag cur buairimh

air ar ndóighe – d’imigh sé as an tír ar fad mar bhí náire air.   Bhí sé doiligh go leor a bheith sa phríosún ach a bheith sa phríosún as gadaíocht agus ansin an rud a bhí déanta mí-cheart air. Rinneadh feall air.

 

Ach chuaigh na bliantaí thart agus bhuail cumhaidh air.  Dar leis gur dheas a theacht ar ais go bhfeicfeadh sé an raibh duine ar bith beo dár fhág sé ina dhiaidh nó cad é mar a bhí an saol.   Tháinig.   Bhí an seantáilliúir is a bhean marbh, a’ fear rua pósta ar ‘níon a’ táilliúra agus é ag obair ar a chonlán féin.

 

Shiúil a’ fear bán isteach agus d’iarr sé obair, gur táilliúir a bhí ann.   Bhí sé bán ar ndóighe agus bhí fear de dhiabhail ar an fhear rua san am agus thug sé obair dó agus ina shuí ar a ‘bhinnse, seo mar a thoisigh sé ……..

 

10. Bean an Fhir Ruaidh

 

An tAmhrán 

1.

(Neos) táilliúir óg aerach mé ‘déanamh éadaigh i dtoigh an fhir ruaidh

Agus thug mo chroí spéis don tsíbhean ba bhinne ná an chuach,

Agus thug mo chroí spéis dá béilín meala gan ghruaim,

Ó’s a charaid mo chléibh’ dá n-éalófá liom ón fhear rua!

 

2.

 

Nuair a théim-se suas ar cuairt go Condae na Mí

Agus cluinim an fear rua dá lua le rúirsearc mo chroí,

Nuair a chluinim níl aon suaimhneas ná aon néal de chodladh na hoích’

Gurb í Bean an Fhir Ruaidh a rinn’ gual dubh in aice mo chroí.

 

3.

 

A bhruinneal gan smál ‘bhfuil na dealraíocha deasa in do ghruaidh

An feasach domh ní ar bith a chloífeadh aigne an fhir ruaidh

Ní cheilim-se ar aon neach, cad é an fáth a bhfuil orm a’ ghruaim

Is i gcoinne an Eaglais is bráithre is í grá mo chroí Bean an Fhir Ruaidh.

 

4.

 

Tá crann insan gharraí a bhfásann air an bláth buí

‘S nuair a leagaim mo lámh air is láidir nach scoilteann mo chroí

Is ní iarrfainn féin aon spás ar an Ard-Rí (a)tá i bhFlaitheas na Naomh

Ach (an) aon phóg amháin is (í) á fáil ó Bhean an Fhir Ruaidh.

 

5.

 

Ó, rachaidh mé síos seal míosa nó coicíse ar cuairt

‘Gus ní phillfidh mé aníos nó go síntear mo chaolchorp san uaigh

Ó, dochtúirí an domhain is ní  leaghasfadh siad mise ar an uaigh

Ach aon amharc amháin is é á fháil ó Bhean an Fhir Ruaidh.

 

 

6.

 

Nár fhága mé an saol seo a choíche ‘s nár cháille mé an greann

Go raibh mé is mo mhian gos íseal faoi bharra na mbeann,

‘S gan aon neach ‘bheith ar na gaobhair ach Bríd i measc dhuilliúr na gcrann,

Is a’ fear ruaidh ‘bheith sínte i gCill Bhríde (a)gus leac os a cheann!

 

 

The Red-Haired Man’s Wife

 

This song/story used to be known the length and breadth of Ireland throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, and maybe even earlier. Such was its popularity that it continued to interest people in English translations in places where the Irish language had all but died out.  William Carleton, the 19th-century Tyrone novelist, wrote that his mother, a native Irish speaker, felt that an English version she had heard sung didn’t fit the melody very well. To her, it was like a man and his wife quarrelling; whereas in the Gaelic song, she felt that the words and the tune melted into one another. The only quarrel I would have would be that the song and the story of Bean an Fhir Ruaidh, and other song/stories of this kind, have somehow become separated.  Such is the extent of this separation that many versions of the song can still be heard sung today, in Connemara, Donegal and elsewhere, yet the story itself is virtually untold.  There are printed versions of course.

I had the good fortune one day in 1979 to ask Hughie Phadaí Hiúdaí of Ranafast if he knew the story of the Red-Haired Man’s Wife. He promptly sat down, lit his pipe, and asked me if my tape recorder was running.  He then proceeded to tell the whole tale, in true sean-nós style, finishing off with the song, and all the while he had that customary twinkle in his eye! The following is a literal translation of what I heard that day:

 

The Story :  A  tailor once lived in these parts long ago and he had one beautiful daughter. He wasn’t sure if the heaps of work he was getting had anything to do with quality of his tailoring, or had more to do with the attractiveness of his daughter. At any rate, droves of young men seemed to be gravitating on the tailor’s house with sewing jobs.  He couldn’t cope with the workload so he put out a notice looking for help.

Before long, two strapping lads arrived – one redheaded and the other fair – and he took them on. After working for a while, both of them fell in love with the young girl. That itself would have been enough to break up the friendship between the two men, but the girl chose the fair-haired man. She preferred him to the red one.

And so the red-haired man became full of jealousy, and thought constantly about what way he could possibly get rid of the other man. One evening they were all tailoring together when the old tailor got up and decided to call it a day; it had been a long day’s work.  The red-haired man asked permission to sit and finish a suit of clothes for a man who was to get married soon. “That’s entirely a matter for yourself,” said the old man, ”but I have to stop.”

The fair–haired man and the girl went out the back of the house for a stroll and sat under a tree for a while courting.  After a while the old tailor, his wife, and everyone else in the house, went to bed but the red-haired man sat on. When he was sure that they were all asleep he took a big box of silver spoons and knives, belonging to the woman of the house, and placed them in the bag of the fair-haired man. The next morning the woman noticed the cutlery missing and

asked the red man about them. He said that he hadn’t seen them. She asked the fair-haired man and he said he too hadn’t seen them.  And of course he hadn’t.  She sent for the militia to search the house. They searched the house and found the cutlery in the fair-haired man’s bag. He was taken away, arrested, and went before the court and got a long prison sentence for theft.

When the term of prison was over, he left the country all together.  It was hard enough to have been put in prison, but to be gaoled for theft, and have that mean trick played on him too.  But the years went by and he got home sick and thought that it would be nice to go back. He would like to see if anyone he had left behind was still alive and how things were generally.

 

He returned. The old tailor and his wife had passed away. The red-haired man was married to the tailor’s daughter and was working away on his own.  The fair-haired man walked in [unrecognized] and asked for work, saying that he was a tailor out of a job. The red man needed someone, as it happened, and he gave him a job. And as the fair-haired man sat at the work- bench this was how he began:

 

                                              The Song :            

 

Oh, I’m a young airy tailor making clothes in the house of the Red-Haired Man,

And my heart once yearned for a fairy-woman more melodious than the cuckoo,

And my heart once yearned for her little honeyed mouth of joy,

Oh, friend of my heart, if only she’d elope with me, away from the Red-Haired Man!

 

Whenever I go up to visit the County of Meath

And hear the name of the Red-Haired Man being linked with the love of my heart,

When I hear it there’s no peace and no wink of sleep;

It was the Red-Haired Man’s wife put black coal in the middle of my heart.

 

Oh, maiden without blemish, who has a pleasant glow in both her cheeks,

Do you know of anything that would weaken the mind of the Red-Haired Man?

I won’t disclose to a sinner the reason why I feel so low;

It’s against church and clergy this love I have for the Red-Haired Man’s wife.

 

There’s a tree in the garden on which grows a yellow flower;

When I lay my hand on it, isn’t it cruel how my heart tears apart?

I wouldn’t even ask the High King of Saintly Heaven for a place

If I could get but one kiss from the Red-Haired Man’s wife!

 

Oh, I’ll go down for a month or a fortnight’s visit,

And not come back up till my slender body is stretched in the grave.

Oh, the doctors of the world couldn’t cure me from certain death –

But if I could get but one glimpse of the Red-Haired Man’s wife!

 

May I never leave this world, nor loose my sense of joy;

But that me and my heart’s desire could meet secretly in the upper peaks;

Without a sinner about but Bríd, in the leaves of the trees,

And the Red-Haired Man buried in Killbride with a stone o’er his head!

 

Translation by Seoirse Ó Dochartaigh