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#Dominic Behan’s
stairnaheireann · 6 months
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#OTD in 1944 – Birth of entertainer and folk musician, Jim McCann.
As a young man, McCann attended University College Dublin as a student of medicine, but became interested in folk music during a summer holiday in Birmingham in 1964. He began to perform in folk clubs in the area, and, upon his return to Dublin, he joined a group called the Ludlow Trio in 1965. In the following year, the Ludlow Trio had a hit with their recording of Dominic Behan’s “The Sea…
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mywifeleftme · 10 months
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87: Dominic Behan // Easter Monday, 1916: Songs of the I.R.A. (Irish Republican Army)
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Easter Monday, 1916: Songs of the I.R.A. (Irish Republican Army) Dominic Behan 1957, Riverside
I was going to save this one for a holiday like Bloody Sunday, Bloody Sunday, or Easter Monday, but then I remembered every day is the anniversary of something bad the English did to the Irish, so now’s as good a time as any to look at Dominic Behan’s Easter Monday, 1916: Songs of the I.R.A. (Irish Republican Army). Like his famous elder brother Brendan, Dominic Behan was an active IRA man and prolific writer across a number of genres but is probably best known as a writer of patriotic songs (e.g. “Come Out, Ye Black and Tans,” “The Patriot Game”). His was a talented family—uncle Peadar Kearney wrote “A Soldier’s Song,” the national anthem of the Republic of Ireland. Songs of the I.R.A. (1958) collects songs written between 1916 and 1955, some by Kearney, most by unknowns, and one by Behan himself. They’re arranged in roughly chronological order and divided into songs of the Irish War of Independence (roughly 1916 to 1920), the so-called “Black and Tan War” (1920 to 1922), and the Irish Civil War (ongoing, as far as Behan was concerned).
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With the caveat that I’m no historian, some context is in order. When Songs of the I.R.A. was recorded in November 1957, the IRA was in the midst of its resurgent Border Campaign against targets in Northern Ireland, and it’s reasonable to guess Behan was motivated to reinforce the connections between the present struggles and those of thirty years past, and to help with propaganda efforts beyond Ireland’s shores. (In particular, by the ‘50s the Irish population in North America was larger than that of Ireland itself and was a reliable source of foreign funding for the war efforts.) What Behan probably could not have foreseen was that the Border Campaign was on the verge of sputtering out, and that hostilities on the island were to enter a period of relative glasnost until the late ‘60s.
These stripped down recordings find Behan accompanied by John Hasted (a leftist British physicist and minor figure in the English folk revival) on, variously, guitar, banjo, or concertina. There are a few original melodies, but most are new topical lyrics addressing recent events set to traditional airs. This isn’t subtle fare, nor is it intended to be: the IRA men are universally clever and brave and worth ten of the English and their traitorous vassals, who’re brutes and bumblers all. IRA life didn’t offer much in terms of worldly fortune, as most volunteers could expect to end up dead or in jail inside a year of signing up, but it did offer the potential for martyrdom. For IRA men and their families hearing the names of fallen ordinary boys like Kevin Barry and Feargal O’Hanlan preserved in popular ballads offered some assurance that their own probable sacrifices would be honoured and recalled.
There isn’t a huge amount of variety to the material here, but the songs are well-sequenced and Behan and Hasted do a good job of tailoring their approach to each one. These are story songs and Behan is a game narrator, flipping between a plummy British accent and a broad Irish brogue on the talky “The Ould Alarm Clock,” singing sentimentally and in a firmly traditional mode on the tender lament “Slean Libh.” Hasted is excellent on all three of his instruments, but he’s at his finest on banjo pieces like the elegiac “Kevin Barry.” A lyric of a young rebel hung in 1920 bleakly set to the tune of “Rolling Home to Merry England,” Hasted’s shivery picking matches Behan’s quavering delivery step for step.
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Still, the highlight of the collection is Behan’s own “The Patriot Game,” a song seeing its first release here that was soon to be a standard. Though Behan’s loyalties are abundantly clear, it is nearly unique among these songs in that it does not look away from the horrors men are compelled to do in even a just war:
Come all ye young rebels, and list while I sing, For the love of one's country is a terrible thing. It banishes fear with the speed of a flame, And it makes us all part of the patriot game.
My name is O'Hanlon, and I've just turned sixteen. My home is in Monaghan, and where I was weaned I learned all my life cruel England's to blame, So now I am part of the patriot game.
This Ireland of ours has too long been half free. Six counties lie under John Bull's tyranny. But still De Valera is greatly to blame For shirking his part in the patriot game.
They told me how Connolly was shot in his chair, His wounds from the fighting all bloody and bare. His fine body twisted, all battered and lame They soon made me part of the patriot game.
It's nearly two years since I wandered away With the local battalion of the bold IRA, For I read of our heroes, and wanted the same To play out my part in the patriot game.
I don't mind a bit if I shoot down police They are lackeys for war never guardians of peace And yet at deserters I'm never let aim The rebels who sold out the patriot game
And now as I lie here, my body all holes I think of those traitors who bargained in souls And I wish that my rifle had given the same To those Quislings who sold out the patriot game.
That line, For love of one’s country is a terrible thing, sticks out, doesn’t it? Terrible doesn’t mean simply ‘very bad,’ as it tends to in contemporary usage, but formidable and unconstrained (echoing perhaps the ‘terrible beauty’ in Yeats’ “Easter, 1916”). There was hate for the English in the milk the dead boy O’Hanlon was weaned upon, and as soon as he was old enough to hold a gun he picked one up and was shot all to pieces for it. The narrative hardens as it goes on. If patriotism and the desire to be free of tyranny is a game, so be it; if the O’Hanlons of the struggle don’t choose their role so much as they’re made part of the game by the colonists and the IRA alike, so be it; if the Irish must fight the Irish to see the 32 counties united, so be it. Whatever your position on the politics of the day, it is an uncompromising statement of belief, made all the more chilling by being set to such a soft melody. It’s easy to imagine a loyalist sitting down at the wrong bar in Belfast and hearing, with slow dawning dread, the first chords of “The Patriot Game” begin to drift from some shadowy corner.
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nonlovesongoftheday · 2 years
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Come Out Ye Black and Tans - written by Dominic Behan, performed by the Irish Descendants
Come out ye' black and tans! Come out and fight me like a man! Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders! Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away, from the green and lovely lanes of Killeshandra!
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tfc2211 · 1 year
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The Lost Tribe of Wicklow - Christy Moore [Lily] The Well Below The Valley - Planxty [The Well Below the Valley] Follow Me Up To Carlow (written by Fiach Mac Aodha Ó Broin) - Screaming Orphans [Taproom] Ghost Riders In The Sky (written by Stan Jones) - Screaming Orphans [Lonely Boy] March Into Trouble - Horslips [The Book of Invasions] Trouble (With a Capital T) - Horslips [The Book of Invasions] King of the Fairies - Horslips [Dancehall Sweethearts] 1969 - The Tossers [Smash The Windows] Trip to Jerusalem (written by Christy Moore) - Pól MacAdaim [Forsaken Land] Another Day - Pól MacAdaim [My Name Is Troy Davis] I'd Rather Be Dancing (written by Wally Page) - The Amadans [Sin é] Running Bear (written by 'The Big Bopper') - Stiff Little Fingers [All The Best] Harp - Stiff Little Fingers [Get a Life] Sleep on a Clothes Line - Rory Gallagher [Tattoo] The Irish Spring - David Rovics [1939] Bás in Éirinn - Black 47 [Bankers & Gangsters] The Night The Showbands Died - Black 47 [Last Call] Advertising - George Carlin Amazing Offer - Horslips [Short Stories / Tall Tales] Stacey Lawlor - Clan Of Celts [Beggars, Celts And Madmen] Lord Randall's Bastard Son - The Walker Roaders [The Walker Roaders] Seo Yun - The Walker Roaders [The Walker Roaders] The Voyage of the Sirius - John Spillane [The Man Who Came In From The Dark] Arkle (written by Dominic Behan) - Seamus Kennedy [Party Pieces] Concrete Road - Seamus Kennedy [Live!] Cushialitee - Paddy Nash and The Happy Enchiladas [When We Were Brave] Tom Williams - Flying Column [Favourite Irish Rebel Ballads] Home By Bearna - Christy Moore [Whatever Tickles Your Fancy] Farmer Michael Hayes - Christy Moore [Folk Tale] The Galway Farmer - Davey Arthur & Co [Celtic Side Saddle] Euston Station - Davey Arthur & Co [Celtic Side Saddle] Henry Joy - Goitse [Úr] The Queen of Argyll - Goitse [Úr] The Hare in the Heather - The Wolfe Tones [Belt Of The Celts] The Tinvane - Coscán [Dinnsenchas (Lore of Places)] A Warning to Conquerors/ Dublin 1913 - Colm O'Brien [Thomas MacDonagh: Poet and Patriot] The Poems of a Good Man · Martin Butler & John Owens [Thomas MacDonagh: Poet and Patriot] The Snows - Pól Mac Adaim [Forsaken land] Crabs In The Skillet - Horslips [Drive The Cold Winter Away] I Roved Out - Clear the Battlefield [Set Me Free] The Rights of Man - Clear the Battlefield [Set Me Free] Allende - Christy Moore [Live at Vicar Street] Chestnut - The Walls [HI-LO] Grian Gheal Lonrach - The Walls [Ceol 10 Súil Siar] Big Blue Whale - Gypsy Rebel Rabble [The Under Over Album] I'm Moving On - Taste [Taste] If I Don't Sing I'll Cry - Taste [On the Boards] Mama Nature Said - Thin Lizzy [Vagabonds of the Western World] The Hero And The Madman - Thin Lizzy [Vagabonds of the Western World] Vagabond of the Western World- Thin Lizzy [Vagabonds of the Western World]
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domlarkin · 2 months
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The Recruiting Sergeant · Dominic Behan
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jayveeeee13 · 4 months
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The Science, Evolution and cultural stigma behind Left-handedness
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 I was also a victim of social stigma, despite being right-handed. It was during a dinner with my family that a sudden thought popped into my head: ‘lisoda gyud diay siguro magkaon gamit wala nga kamot uy (using my left hand to hold the spoon) ’, and so to satisfy my curiosity, I then proceeded to eat with my left hand. A few seconds later, my father noticed it and immediately said, ‘tsk! Ayaw pag winalhon kay sa diablo na, maanad ka ana’. 
With left-handed people being the minority globally, the expectation to adjust to the ways of right-handed people has become a default practice. It is not only schools that necessitate adjustment in handedness. Challenges for lefties are also manifested in music instruments, spring notebooks, scarcity of binary medical tools, lack of ergonomic furniture, and the list goes on. There are also cultural communities that highly value the use of the right hand in tasks such as writing and eating. More than cultural pressures, other factors are being considered as well: genetic, developmental, and hormonal. All of which will be tackled in the succeeding paragraphs.  
A study by Harris and Carlson (1988) presents that there is a correlation between genetics and hand preference. Their theory introduced two categories of left-handedness: pathological and familial. Pathological left-handedness is simply brought about by pathologies that alter a baby’s supposed hand preference. Meanwhile, the familial category attributes left-handedness to family influences. Under the pathological left-handedness lies the idea of developmental instability concerning birth stress and birth weight. Stress can compromise the birth weight of a child. When this occurs, oxygen level depletes which negatively impacts the left hemisphere of the brain responsible for controlling right-handedness. The thing is, it takes a major gene effect that could be tested to firmly establish this categorization. Perhaps, this begs for more elaborated research to prove such  theory.   
We can also look at how cortical growth is affected by intrauterine sex hormones such as testosterone. When neural development is interrupted by elevated levels of testosterone, it causes physiological changes and one of which is the left-handedness of the child. In fact, testosterone is known for inhibiting immunity-building (Geschwind & Behan 1982; McManus & Bryden 1991 as cited in Llaurens, Raymond, & Faurie 2009). For this reason, left-handedness is associated with pathologies and disorders, perpetuating the idea that lefties have shorter life spans.
In the face of all findings concerning genetics and fetal development in relation to sinistrality, it must be considered that culture is also a potent force that influences handedness. After all, DNA is not the only thing inherited from our parents. The main reason why other studies struggle to investigate the genetic component of handedness is simply because genetics is intertwined with other factors. Or maybe, it is not really about the genes at all. 
Evolution through epigenetic variation makes more sense than genetic variation. This means that left-handedness will still emerge with or without alteration of DNA sequence. This is only for as long as environmental conditions that cause left-handedness to our ancestors and the people today are still present. That is not to say that DNA is irrelevant but epigenetic variations can occur at a higher rate than genetic variations because of its capability to withstand changing environments and occur simultaneously (Jablonka and Lamb 2005). But if we talk about the variation that accounts for the diversity of handedness, handedness polymorphism is worth considering. Polymorphism suggests that hand preference is situation-dependent. Some people are dominantly left or right-handed, yet there are still tasks that they can perform efficiently with the use of their less dominant hand. This is probably why left-handed people can co-exist with right-handed people, regardless of what hand is favored by the situation! 
Indeed, there are cultural practices and other basic human activities that neglect or do not consider the 'minority' left-handed. There are several fields wherein being left-handed is quite disadvantageous, such as the usage of tools like can openers and alike, wherein it only caters to right-handed individuals, or in cultures that write from left to right (which is the most common way of writing), or desk arrangements in offices, or even the mouse and keyboard orientation of computers. Left-handed individuals are also recipients of social stigma that is associated with their traits. An article written by Rose Eveleth in 2013 mentioned several negative connotations corresponding to being a lefty. It is considered impolite to offer one's left hand to anyone, even for assistance, in many Muslim countries across the world. This discrimination goes a long way back in history, including those of the West. If we also look at their languages, the ‘left’ word originated from the anglo-saxon word ‘lyft’ which means broken. The word ‘sinister’ originated from the Latin language, which means left. The word ‘linkisch’ in German means awkward. The Russian word ‘levja’ means untrustworthy and also being deemed an insult, and this linguistic investigation on ‘left’ negative connotations goes on a long list. As I skim through articles for this blog post, I encountered a few religiously associated negative connotations on being a lefty. Considering how we value religious beliefs, maybe this bias accounts for the social attitude we have for left-handedness. 
In the sports context, there are some situations where lefties face challenges. This includes the availability of sports equipment such as golf clubs, baseball clubs, etc. that are commonly tailor-fitted for right-handed players. However, being left-handed in some sports is sometimes even considered advantageous. If you closely follow basketball and the NBA, there are several respected and successful Hall of Famers in the NBA that are lefties; take David Robinson and Manu Ginobili, for example. In volleyball, one of the most popular, if not the most popular, is the Japanese player Yuji Nishida, a left-handed player. Even in boxing, our very own Manny Pacquiao takes the southpaw stance (a favorable left-hand stance). In my many years of playing these sports (basketball and volleyball), I always struggled to guard (basketball) and read (volleyball) opposing players who were lefties. Apparently, my struggle is backed by an article published by Loffing et al. in 2011 saying that left-handed players are indeed at an advantage in sports, specifically volleyball. The authors of the article tried to account for this phenomenon using Faurie and Raymond’s hypothesis named ‘negative frequency-dependent selection’. In biology, one classic example of negative frequency-dependent selection is the maintenance of different color morphs in prey species. For instance, if there are two color morphs (e.g., "A" and "B") in a population of prey animals, the success of each morph may depend on the frequency of the other. If morph A is rare, predators may be less adapted to recognize it, giving it a fitness advantage. However, if morph A becomes common, predators may adapt and start to recognize and prey on it more effectively, reducing its advantage. In volleyball and basketball, left-handed attacking players can be compared to those of prey, and facing these types of players was always not easy. Although in basketball, a recent approach to the ball game has left lefties with little advantage nowadays, guess what? In a team game where time matters, a little advantage means a lot. It was in volleyball that I admired left-handed players so much that I came to the point of envying lefties and wishing that I was a lefty as well. 
The asymmetric hand use of humans only means that handedness is not a neutral trait. More often than not, the extent of its advantage and disadvantage is dictated by socio-cultural and environmental pressures. But if we really are eager to determine what makes left-handed people left, then it is about time that we have an updated study that examines different environments to uncover the type of selection that acting on handedness. Despite sociocultural stigma acting on this rare trait, success on fields like sports will hopefully make us realize that being lefty is not so bad at all. 
Question: Following a Darwinist perspective, if being left-handed is associated with being ‘evil’ and ‘unacceptable’, how come did it survive? 
Bibliography
“APA PsycNet.” n.d. Psycnet.apa.org. Accessed January 4, 2024. https://psycnet.apa.org/doiLanding?doi=10.1037%2F0033-2909.110.2.237.
Eveleth, Rose. 2013. “Two-Thirds of the World Still Hates Lefties.” Smithsonian Magazine. May 17, 2013. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/two-thirds-of-the-world-still-hates-lefties-64727388/.
Geschwind, N., and P. Behan. 1982. “Left-Handedness: Association with Immune Disease, Migraine, and Developmental Learning Disorder.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 79 (16): 5097–5100. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.79.16.5097.
“Google Scholar.” n.d. Scholar.google.com. Accessed January 4, 2024. https://scholar.google.com/scholar_lookup?title=Brain+lateralization+in+children:+developmental+implications&author=L.J.+Harris&author=D.F.+Carlson&publication_year=1988&.
Llaurens, V, M Raymond, and C Faurie. 2008. “Why Are Some People Left-Handed? An Evolutionary Perspective.” Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences 364 (1519): 881–94. https://doi.org/10.1098/rstb.2008.0235.
Loffing, Florian, Jörg Schorer, Norbert Hagemann, and Joseph Baker. 2011. “On the Advantage of Being Left-Handed in Volleyball: Further Evidence of the Specificity of Skilled Visual Perception.” Attention, Perception, & Psychophysics 74 (2): 446–53. https://doi.org/10.3758/s13414-011-0252-1.
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dougrobyngoold · 8 months
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A Walk & A Whiskey Tasting - Galway, Ireland
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We spent the day today wandering around Galway. We started at Eyre Square, where there was a little market happening. We didn't see anything that we had to have, so we just wandered around the square.
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The Browne Doorway - this door and window were removed from the mansion of Dominic Browne and his wife, Maria Lynch. It is an example of Renaissance architecture and is dated 1627.
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Statue of Padraic O Conaire (Patrick Joseph Conroy) - recognized as "the first significant writer in modern Irish. His short stories helped preserve the Irish language. In 1893, less than one percent of the Irish population spoke only Irish and there were only 5 Irish-language books in print.
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There is also a memorial to JFK on the square.
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We visited the Galway Cathedral - it was a bit disappointing, as the inside was pretty modern in appearance.
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"Equality Emerging" statue, created by John Behan - one of Ireland's most renowned sculptors. The dedication on the statue reads: "The statue is dedicated to people everywhere who are struggling for equality and to those suffering because of its absence. The emerging figure represents the force for equality, the wall, those people and systems in opposition."
We checked out the campus of the University of Galway and its beautiful ivy-covered buildings:
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We then headed toward the town center - enjoying the murals, streets, and historic sites:
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We had a good time trying to identify all of the rock stars in this mural on the side of a pub.
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Lynch Memorial Window - "as legend has it, in 1493 the town's mayor hung his son from this window for murdering a visitor." WOW!
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The Collegiate Church of St. Nicholas - founded in 1320.
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Another beautiful mural in the town center.
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We stopped in at The Legend of the Claddagh Ring and watched the romantic story of how the ring came about.
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We walked by Lynch's Castle, a nice example of a medieval fortified house, parts of the building date back to the 14th century. It is currently housing a bank.
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St. Augustine's Catholic Church.
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Shopping area along Buttermilk Lane - notice the LOOK LEFT painted on the road, that is for tourists to make sure that we don't get run over because we are looking in the WRONG direction!
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The Spanish Arch, dating back to 1584, is built on the left bank of the Corrib River.
Our last stop of the day was the Galway City Museum, we timed our visit perfectly as we arrived just as the rain started getting serious. We wandered through the museum, learning about the city of Galway and a little Irish history.
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The best part of our visit to the museum!
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We stopped at Sonny Molloy's for lunch and after lunch we decided to order a "whiskey platter".....needless to say, we headed home afterwards!
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garudabluffs · 1 year
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The Patriot Game · Judy Collins
Whales & Nightingales ℗ 1970 Elektra/Asylum Records
13 Comments "It seems no one on youtube has posted a version containing ALL of the verses, including Luke Kelly, who leaves out the verse about James Connelly. Thanks to Wikipedia, I now know all of the verses."
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Tribute to Fergal O'Hanlon who died from his wounds alongside his comrade Seán South after a daring raid by the Irish Republican Army on Brookeborough RUC Barracks as part of Operation Harvest 1956 - 62.
4 Comments "Well, with God on our Side, Bob Dylan didn't know he use this wonderful song"
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Written by Irish poet Dominic Behan, the brother of legendary playwright Brendan Behan, this bitter reflection on the ongoing partition of Ireland and the IRA's often violent attempts at reunification was brought to the U.S. in the late 1950s by The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. It has been recorded by dozens of folk singers on both sides of the Atlantic, including The Dubliners, Luke Kelly solo, the Wofhounds, Judy Collins, and many more. The lyrics commemorate the deaths on New Year's Eve of 1956 of two very young soldiers of the IRA, Fergal O'Hanlon and Sean South, who were killed while trying to blow up a barracks of the Royal Ulster Constabulary in County Fermanagh in Northern Ireland. The Kingston Trio here is using the same lyrics as the Clancys - lyrics that elide Behan's verses about James Connolly being executed by the British while strapped to a wooden chair because he was too wounded to stand, as well as a justification for killing policemen and an indictment of the first president of the Republic of Ireland Eamon de Valera's acceptance of the division of the island nation in 1922. Every other version of this song uploaded to YouTube has ignited flaming and partisan commentary about the song and the ongoing troubles that inspired it. As much as it is an Irish Nationalist anthem, Behan's composition also remains implicitly a powerful lamentation over the sorrow and tragic cost of war and violence.
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"The original version is a resolute young rebel with the only regrets that he was not more successful in facing down the police and those who he saw as traitors. The version made famous by the Clancy Brothers dropped the referenced de Valera (But still de Valera is greatly to blame, For shirking his part in the patriot game) who was the President of Ireland and the following verse. “I don't mind a bit if I shoot down police They are lackeys for war never guardians of peace And yet at deserters, I'm never let aim The rebels who sold out the patriot game.” The edited version is a song that weeps with regret for getting caught up in the patriot game. The original is a resolute defense of his actions and attack on those who sold out the patriots of the time. The tune may sound familiar as Bob Dylan used it for his incredible song, “With God on Our Side” which he must have picked up while playing on bills with the Clancy Brothers. This version is of the original lyrics as sung by the great Luke Kelly. THIS IS ONE TO TURN UP LOUD!!!!!
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1weltreisender · 1 year
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Irland ohne rettenden Schirm
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(Der Beitrag wurde erstmals im Februar 2014 veröffentlicht) Dublin - Eine Art Halali verkündet die pünktliche Landung von ryanair in Dublin oder ist es Verkaufsjubel? Kurz vorher ließ sich das mit Reisebuch und Internet-Recherchen präparierte Ehepaar auf den Nebensitzen die teuren aircoach-Tickets für die Busfahrt in die Stadt aufschwatzen. Die kosten mehr als das dreifache einer Fahrt mit dem Linienbus, und vielleicht hätte ich sie warnen sollen, aber Irland, das gerade den Rettungsschirm verließ, braucht jeden Cent.
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rain, rain... Foto: Beate Lemcke Aufgekratzte Stewardessen reden einem jungen Mann zu, den halbvollen Trinkbecher nicht in der Maschine zurückzulassen, sondern auf die Heimkehr zu leeren: Cmon, one more sluug, an anodder wii drop... Brav trinkt er aus, dann wankt der Lädierte im Schneckentempo mit Klammergriff am Geländer die Gangway runter. Auch meine Ankunft gestaltet sich suboptimal. Beim Chipper zieht mir die genervte Bedienung den Teller trotz bereits im Fisch steckender Gabel wieder weg, wegen Verwechslung. Das neue Mahl sieht blass aus und wird erst genießbar, nachdem ich Fisch und Chips nochmal ins Öl werfen ließ. Mein jahrelanger innerer Kampf ist vorerst entschieden: Goodbye, "Beshoff", ich bin ab jetzt Stammkunde bei "Leo Burdock". Selbstverständlich muss ein Fisch schwimmen, was sich mit der Idee vom Begrüßungs-Pint of Guinness deckt. Später wird der Bronze-James-Joyce auf der Earl Street North Zeuge, wie ich der Zechprellerei bezichtigt werde. Das hat man davon, wenn man nach alter irischer Sitte sofort zahlt.
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Green is more... Foto: Beate Lemcke Eingehüllt in den besonderen Sound Dublins mit seinen mövendurchkreischten Morgen mache ich mich auf zum Friedhof von Glasnevin. Brendan Behan, dessen Grab ich dort besuchen will, hat dem Royal Canal, den ich zunächst queren muß, ein Denkmal gesetzt mit seiner Interpretation von “The Auld Triangle” (verfaßt von seinem Bruder Dominic für Brendans Theaterstück “The Quare Fellow”). Die schwer befahrene Whitworth Road verläuft parallell zur Wasserstraße und weist nur auf einer Seite einen Fußweg aus. Ausgerechnet auf der anderen mahnt ein Verkehrsschild "Caution blind people training". Das läßt ungute Gedanken an sadistische Spiele aufkommen, aber in der Nähe gibt es eine Institution für people with sight loss, und für die ist der schreckensreiche Trainingsparcours wohl gedacht. Blumenläden und einige Vorgärten zeugen davon, daß das Alpenveilchen in Irland gerade eine Renaissance erlebt. Ausgerechnet diese vergessenen Pflanzen, derer – zumal im Osten Deutschlands – viele überdrüssig sind, waren sie doch über Jahrzehnte neben der Nelke die einzige florale Zier, an der kein Mangel herrschte. In das Licht der tiefstehenden Januarsonne getaucht ist der Friedhof von Glasnevin schlechthin überwältigend. Die Weite, die Größe, der urtümliche Baumbestand!
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Augenbaum auf dem Glasnevin Cem. Foto: Beate Lemcke Es braucht eine Weile, bis ich das ungeschmückte Grab von Brendan Behan gefunden habe. Noch länger allerdings soll es dauern, als ich mich am Folgetag auf die Suche nach der Grabstätte meines irischen Lieblingsautors Flann O'Brien begebe, für dessen Theorie vom Molekülaustausch Mensch-Fahrrad ich schon häufig Belege gefunden zu haben glaube. Dass sie so schwer zu lokalisieren ist, liegt erneut an der Schmucklosigkeit der Ruhestätte. Und an des Meisters Pseudonymen. Soll ich nun nach Brian Nolan suchen, nach Brian O'Nolan, nach Flann O'Brien oder Myles na gCopalleen oder Gopaleen? Der Friedhof, ca. 12 Kilometer südlich von Dublin gelegen, ist noch größer als der in Glasnevin. Dafür weniger grün, graue Grabfelder soweit das Auge reicht. Schließlich stehe ich neben dem unscheinbaren Familienstein der Ó Nuallain's, auf dem auch der Name Brian vermerkt ist und daß er 1966 verstarb. Nichts aber über seine Begabung ("So hätte Joyce geschrieben, wenn er nicht bescheuert gewesen wäre"), kein Blümchen, nicht mal ein Alpenveilchen, nichts. Ich bin froh, vorgesorgt zu haben und kippe einen guten Tropfen Whiskey auf seine "Schulter", um dann selber einen Schluck zu nehmen, der Brisanz meiner Unternehmung angemessen. Im Café am Friedhofstor drängt mich die warmherzige Bedienung, zwei alten Herrschaften zu erzählen, was ich am Grab gemacht habe. Die freuen sich, und der Herr zitiert sogleich aus The workmans friend : "When things go wrong and will not come right, Though you do the best you can, When life looks black as the hour of night - A pint of plain is your only man".
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Schuluniform. Foto: Beate Lemcke Die fragile Greisin weiß zu berichten, dass sie zuweilen zuschauen darf, wie Brians jüngster Bruder Micheál mit Regenschirm durch Dun Laoghaire spaziert. Später im Sweny, wo Leopold Bloom seine Lemon-Seife für Molly kaufte, erfahre ich von einem der Joyceaner, daß dieser ab und an O'Nolans Nichte Roisin in Dublin trifft. Er will ihr von meiner Whiskey-Attacke erzählen. (Tut mir ja selber leid, daß ich nicht des Dichters Lieblingstropfen Middleton dabei hatte...) Übrigens war mir auf dem Rückweg aus Blackrock zum wiederholten Male aufgefallen, daß ich bei religiösen Slogans in Irland schwer zu ergründen vermag, ob etwas Ernst, Nonsens oder Ironie ist. So las ich an einer St. Thomas Kirche "Jesus is my rock and I am ready to roll!" (?)
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Ende einer Institution an der Frederick Street Nth. Foto: Beate Lemcke Ins Burdock in Temple Bar komme ich an meinem letzten Tag in Dublin gerade noch rechtzeitig, um einen Streit zu schlichten. Die Jungs am Frittiertopf diskutieren, was wohl die Hauptstadt von Deutschland sei – München oder Frankfurt. Ihr Herz immerhin scheinen sie am rechten Fleck zu haben, denn fürs Restgeld steht eine Schale auf dem Tresen "donations to kill Justin Bieber". Für mich geht es weiter nach Norden, und nun brauche ich doch einen Regenschirm. Beate Lemcke (Januar 2014) Beate ist nicht nur eine begnadete Autorin und ausgezeichnete Irland-Kennerin, sondern sie ist auch Inhaberin des Szene-Ladens Irish Berlin, Große Hamburger Straße 36A, 10115 Berlin.  Titelfoto / Nahe Aungier Str. / Foto: Beate Lemcke
Noch mehr Fotos:
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Glasnevin lädt zum Spaziergang. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Idylle in Phibsborough. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Im Norden Dublins, wie eine Western-Kulisse. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Irische Tür. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Philip Lynott. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Stephen's Green Centre. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Brendan Behan, Glasnevin. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Brian Nolan, Dean's Grange Cemetery. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Dean's Grange Cemetery. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Demo in der O'Connell Street. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Diese Tür ist zu... Foto: Beate Lemcke
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ein Tetrapak wird Vogelhäuschen. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Ende einer Institution an der Frederick Street Nth. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Fahrrad-Ersatzteillager. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Glasnevin Cemetery. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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Caution. Foto: Beate Lemcke
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biglisbonnews · 1 year
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Is "Come Out, Ye Black & Tans" just the 1920 version of "Fuck The Police?" "Come Out, Ye Black and Tans" is sort-of quintessential example of what you might call Irish Rebel Songs. With lyrics attributed to Dominic Behan, the tune is sort of a pissing match aimed at the Royal Irish Constabularies, the British police force in Ireland during the War of Independence. — Read the rest https://boingboing.net/2023/03/01/is-come-out-ye-black-tans-just-the-1920-version-of-fuck-the-police.html
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stairnaheireann · 2 months
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#OTD in 1944 – Death of entertainer and folk musician, Jim McCann.
#OTD in 1944 – Death of entertainer and folk musician, Jim McCann. As a young man, McCann attended University College Dublin as a student of medicine, but became interested in folk music during a summer holiday in Birmingham in 1964. He began to perform in folk clubs in the area, and, upon his return to Dublin, he joined a group called the Ludlow Trio in 1965. In the following year, the Ludlow…
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mywifeleftme · 5 months
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231: The Pogues // If I Should Fall from Grace with God
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If I Should Fall from Grace with God The Pogues 1988, Stiff
Take my hand, and dry your tears babe Take my hand, forget your fears babe There’s no pain, there’s no more sorrow They’re all gone, gone in the years babe
Ah Shane, another man surely claimed by the number one cause of death in Ireland: Irishness. Sometimes it felt like you had to take your finger and fish around in his horrible mouth for all the poetry you’d been told was in there, but if you kept at it you’d always pull out some slurred gem eventually. Like a lot of men of my genre, to me the Pogues personified down-but-not-out romance, the sort of music for cavorting and resisting but also for sliding your heavy boots along some dusted wood floor, with your hands around a woman’s waist and your exhausted nose in her good-smelling hair. They made masculine music, certainly, but in that manner that admits tears and tenderness among men, the way enough beer can blur the stiff boundary between straight dudes and whiskey can burn right through it by the end of a night. And they made smart music too, cognizant of history, ever on the side of the common person, but with a maniac zest for bloody myths and black-humoured political sloganeering.
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MacGowan loved doomed poets like Federico Garcia Lorca and Brendan Behan, and it seemed that in his understanding there was no separating the doom from the poetry. Certainly he was avid in his commitment to both. In his lyrics and in his stage presence, he presented the figure of a tattered, drunken tramp, whose low state gives him vision, reckless freedom, and the right to broad sentimentality. It’s a pose that’s existed about as long as literature itself has, and there’s plenty of Irish and English folk songs that lean into the trope—what MacGowan, via his punk roots, brings to the table is that he sounds like that character when he sings. It’s moving when a ruinous drunk opens their gob and a high pure “Danny Boy” voice emerges. But with MacGowan, you feel like you’re right there in the bar or the prison cell or the ghostly pirate ship where the action is happening.
Of course, the Pogues were always more than just Shane, and it’s not unlikely he’d be a very obscure figure today if he hadn’t joined forces with such a formidable crew of instrumentalists. Though I’m partial to the MacGowan-dominated Rum Sodomy & the Lash, their most successful record, If I Should Fall from Grace with God, is the moment the band and their brilliant frontman achieved equilibrium. Many of the album’s finest songs are co-writes between MacGowan and banjo player Jem Finer, while new additions (and actual Irishmen) Terry Woods and Philip Chevron (himself passed away in 2013) each contribute moving originals. The band is every bit as put-together as Shane is not, but the record finds them as always shifting gracefully between hellraising punk, rare old dewy folk, and honest-to-God Christmas music without once seeming out of their element. On the better than respectable (though less than classic) albums that followed, they would effectively take up the slack left by their decreasingly functional singer. Even when Shane was often little more than a reeking stage prop, they remained a force in concert.
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I own the first three Pogues records (and the Poguetry in Motion EP), and prior to today I hadn’t decided which I would write about. But when I heard the news, I knew immediately it would be Grace’s “The Broad Majestic Shannon” that would be the song to make me weep; and that decided it. Lesser known than the similarly swinging “Fairytale of New York,” but no less special to my heart, it tells in plain speech of the pain and relief in time’s passing. As MacGowan told it, “Shannon” is “a song about an Irishman returning to his hometown in County Tipperary after many years of living in London, and finding that everything about the place he grew up in has changed or disappeared.” He remembers a last drink with friends and a lover, a pensive moment sat at a crossroads where he took the place in a final time before pushing off. Sometime later, he returns to a wall where that crossroads once stood and stands by it a while, pushing around some old rubbish with his foot before shaking his head wryly at himself for being so sentimental about it. Threading those two moments in time there’s the chorus I quoted at the top of this piece, this rich, tender, accepting thing. On the first pass through, it could be the speaker comforting his loved ones on the eve of his departure; on the second, it seems the memory of his own words gently chides and comforts him. “The Broad Majestic Shannon” makes the iron, inescapable fact that all people and things must pass away sound like a blessing, and that coming to accept this fact is the requirement that makes truly living possible. Poets tend to be denied the benefits of their own insights, but they say even in his ruin Shane was content with his lot. He loved and was loved. And now he’s gone where there are no tears or cops or dentists, and we have our time together before we go too.
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231/365
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thestageyshelf · 2 years
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SOLD 🎭 Stepping Out @ Vaudeville Theatre 2017 (#130)
Title: Stepping Out
Venue: Vaudeville Theatre
Year: 2017
with programme slip for Suzy Bloom
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Condition: Good condition
Author: Richard Harris
Director: Maria Friedman
Choreographer: Tim Jackson
Cast: Amanda Holden, Tracy-Ann Oberman, Josefina Gabrielle, Nicola Stephenson, Natalie Casey, Judith Baker, Sandra Marvin, Jessica-Alice McCluskey, Lesley Vickerage, Dominic Rowan, Emma Hook, Marcia Mantack, Nick Warnford, Janet Behan, Suzy Bloom, Katie Verner
FIND ON EBAY HERE
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cruelsister-moved · 3 years
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we need to just start killing people who say folk punk
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garadinervi · 4 years
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James Joyce (lyrics) – Dominic Behan (volcals), Finnegan's Wake [Side One: Master McGrath; Finnegan's Wake. Side Two: Bonny Boy; Mrs. McGrath], JEI.1, Collector Records, 1958
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