Tag: Laments

The Hare’s Lament

Another beautiful hare hunting song. This one appeared in Sam Henry’s Songs of the People, and comes from Ulster.

 

On the 20th of January and in the 70th year,

The morning being beautiful, charming, bright and clear,

I being disturbed by dreams as I lay in my den,

I dreamed of heathery mountain, high rock and low glen.

 

Chorus (repeated after each verse):

To my hark, tallyho! Hark over yon brow.

“She’s over,” cries the huntsman, “See, yonder she’ll go.”

 

As I sat in my form for to view the plains round

I being trembling and shaking for fear of the hounds

And seeing no danger appearing to me

I quickly walked out to the top of the slee.

 

Chorus

 

They hunted me up and they hunted me down;

At the loop of the burn they did me surround.

When up come the huntsman to end all the strife,

He says, “Leave the hare down and give her play for her life.”

 

Chorus

 

Bad luck to all sportsmen, to Bowman and Ringwood,

They sprinkled the plain with my innocent blood.

They let Reynard go free, that cunning old fox,

That ate up all the chickens, fat hens and game cocks.

 

Chorus

 

It’s now I’m for dying, but I know not the crime;

To the value of sixpence I ne’er robbed mankind.

I never was given to rob or to steal,

All the harm that ever I done was crop the heads of green kale.

0

On Yonder Hill There Sits a Hare

This is another gorgeous hunting song from Tyrone. It was popularised by the great Geordie Hanna.

 

 

On yonder hill there sits a hare

Full of worry, grief and care

And o’er her lodgings it was bare

singing oh, brave boys, hi-ho

And o’er lodgings it was bare,

singing oh, brave boys, hi-ho

 

Now there came a huntsman riding by

And on this poor hare he cast his eye

And o’re the bogs hallooed his dogs

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

And o’er the bogs hallooed his dogs

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

 

Now she’s gone from hill to hill

All for the best dog to try his skill

and kill the poor hare that never done ill

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

And kill the poor hare that never done ill

singing ho, brave-boys, hi-ho

 

And now she’s turned and turned again

Merrily as she trips the plane

And may she live to run again

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

And may she live to run again,

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

 

0

Seán Ó Duibhir a Ghleanna

A Beautiful song, one of several (both in English and Irish) which shares this tune. More information coming soon.

 

 

How oft at sunny morning

Sunlight all adorning

I hear the horn give warning

‘Mid the birds mellow call.

Badgers flee before us

Woodcocks startle o’er us

And guns give ringing chorus

‘Mid the echoes all.

The fox runs higher and higher

Huntsmen shouting nigh her

A maiden lying by her fowl

Left wounded in his gore.

Now they fell the wildwood

Farewell home of childhood

Sean O Duibhir an Gleanna

Your day it is o’er.

 

‘Tis my sorrow sorest

Sad the falling forest

The north wind brings me no rest

And death is in the sky.

My noble hounds tied tightly

Never sporting brightly

Would make a child laugh lightly

With a tear in its eye.

The antlered noble-hearted

Stags are never started

Never chased nor parted

From the furzy field.

If peace comes but a small way

I’ll journey down to Galway

I’ll leave, but not for always

My Erin of ills.

 

Land of streams and valleys

Has no head nor rallies

In city, camp or palace

They never toast her name.

Where the warrior column

From Clyne to peaks of Collum

All wasted hills and solemn

The wild hare grows tame.

When will come the routing

Shocks of churls and flouting?

I hear no joyful shouting

From the blackbird brave.

Ne’er warlike is the yeoman

Justice comes to no man

And priests must flee the foeman

To the mountain cave.

 

‘Tis my woe and ruin

Sinless death’s undoing

Came not to the strewing

Of all my bright hopes.

How oft of sunny morning

I watched the sun returning

The autumn maples burning

And dew on the woodland slopes.

But now my lands are plundered

Far my friends are sundered

And I must hide me under

The branch and bramble screen.

If soon I cannot save me

From flights of foes who crave me

Oh death at last I’ll brave thee

My bitter foes between.

For now they fell the wildwood

Farewell home of childhood

Sean O Duibhir an Ghleanna

Your day it is o’er.

1

Bonny Portmore

 

O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand,
And the more I think on you, the more I think long.
If I had you now as I had once before
All the lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.

O bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree.
For it stood on your shore for many’s the long day,
Till the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.

O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long.
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.

All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep
Saying, “Where will we shelter or where will we sleep?”
For the Oak and the Ash, they are all cutten down,
And the walls of bonny Portmore are all down to the ground.

O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long.
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords of Old England would not purchase Portmore.

 

 

I learned Bonny Portmore originally from Loreena McKennitt’s recording from 1991. The song is of Irish origin, and laments the loss of the great Irish forests of old. In particular, the song laments the loss of the Great Oak of Portmore, which was felled during a windstorm in 1760. According to Sean O’Boyle’s book The Irish Song Tradition, Portmore itself was a castle on what is now called Lough Beg; it was built in 1644 by Lord Conway, but eventually the estate was broken up and sold, and it is to this event that the song refers (O’Boyle 1997).

The song was first published in Edward Bunting’s Ancient Music of Ireland (1840).

0

Website Built with WordPress.com.

Up ↑