I know there's some kind of history to mountain music-like it came from Ireland or England or Scotland and we kept up the tradition.
quote by Loretta Lynn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Celtic Ray
When lewellyn comes around
And he goes through market town
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready?
When mcmannus comes around
On his early morning rounds
Crying hey...
Youll be on the celtic ray
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
When the coal brick man comes round
On a cold november day
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready? are you ready?
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Ive been away from the ray too long
Ive been away from the ray too long
All over ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, come home children
Children, come home on the celtic ray
In the early morning well go walking
Where the light comes shining through
On the celtic ray
Come home children
Come home on the celtic ray
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My point is there's a hidden Scotland in anyone who speaks the Northern Ireland speech. It's a terrific complicating factor, not just in Northern Ireland, but Ireland generally.
quote by Seamus Heaney
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History is more or less bunk. It's tradition. We don't want tradition. We want to live in the present and the only history that is worth a tinker's damn is the history we made today.
quote by Henry Ford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flag Issue at Parkhead in the Fifties
In Scotland in the fifties,
In football terms,
Protest was a blaze
From the grumpy old chairmen,
They took to a cause
That never since has died;
The flying of Ireland’s flag
Over Parkhead’s sky.
So bold Robert Kelly,
Born to Celtic’s dynasty,
Acted upon his heart
And wrote himself into history,
He sat at his desk
With pen in hand,
And wrote a letter, for a favour,
From the Irish PM.
“Dear Mr.DeValera,
How have you been?
Have you been reading the results
Of the bhoys in green?
Our attendance at Parkhead
Improves with every game,
I just wish our football
Would improve the same.”
“I have a small plea,
In this letter I ask,
As Celtic’s being condemned
For flying Ireland’s flag,
We’re proud of the fathers
Who built this club,
Proud of our heritage
As Ireland’s sons.”
“Ireland’s flag,
We’ll never take down,
But protest galore
May be reaching the crown,
So the teams in Scotland
Have gathered as a unit,
And turned the flag issue
Into a game of politics.”
“I took a walk around Parkhead,
It was a sunny day,
And noticed our flag of old,
Is starting to fray,
To the establishment of football,
I would just love to brag,
Can Ireland, our brother,
Deliver Celtic a new flag? ”
The letter was stamped
And mailed to Dublin,
By special delivery
Not carrier pigeon,
And DeValera, in the penmanship
Of Yeats’ ghost,
Wrote, “No problem, son,
It’s in the post.”
Oct'25th 2003
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Judged by the law of England, I know this crime entails upon me the penalty of death; but the history of Ireland explains that crime and justifies it.
quote by Thomas Francis Meagher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Winners Write The History
That the winners write the war histories should not be the case
For war is a tragedy a human disgrace
And the losers in war see their Country destoyed
And the war history never written by the losing side.
Look at Oliver Cromwell victorious in war
The deeds of his glory from England known far
But those who write on Cromwell they never do tell
Of one who for poor people made life Earthly hell.
To the Catholics of Ireland Cromwell was a brute
The poor rural peasants he did persecute
Yet streets in his honour distant from England today
The winners only write the history so true what they say.
Efrain Rios Montt became President of Guatemala even though he
Was guilty of serious crimes against humanity
An old man now but for his crimes yet to pay
The winners write the history it's always been that way.
Augusto Pinochet in Chile has blood on his hands
And that he may die a free man seems hard to understand
And though loathed by many in Chile for his crimes of shame
The winners write the history and their's is the fame.
I've just mentioned a few for there are many more
Who have committed crimes against humanity but like it has been said before
that the winners write the history and that's how 'twill remain
And the mistakes of the past are repeated again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It is time we in Scotland put England in its proper place and instead of our leaning on England and taking inspiration from her, we should lean and turn to Europe, for it is there our future prosperity lies.
quote by Hugh MacDiarmid
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Passing Cromwell Street
In Melbourne streets named in his honour though he does not warrant such fame
For he lived a life of dishonour yet he never felt any shame
For his crimes against the poor of Ireland the winners write the history they say
And historians are too kind to Cromwell the one who did awful things in his day.
He evicted the poor of rural Ireland those who only knew of poverty
And put them on the hard road to Connacht the victims of crimes against humanity
His army were thugs and not soldiers for they did things that soldiers ought not do
The winners always write the history though their version of history is often not true.
In Cromwell's time the winners wrote the history and the winners still write the history today
But for any crimes against humanity the winners too should be made to pay
But Cromwell and his army honoured for their crimes in Ireland against the poor defenceless poor
'Tis sad to think that one so unworthy of a place in history is secure.
To hell or to Connacht his catch cry he forced thousands of poor families on the road
To people who were penniless and innocent not one scrap of mercy he showed
Thousands of them died in the harsh Irish Winter when homelessness on them took it's toll
Because they were poor they were punished though their life circumstances beyond their control.
I think of the untruths of history each time I drive by Cromwell street
The history written by winners their history of lies and deceit
I say to myself they honour a tyrant and I struggle for to understand
Why they name a street after somebody who oppressed the poor of Ireland.
Andrew Marvell in verse glorified Cromwell but he was one who would not know
What Cromwell and his army got up to in Ireland in those bleak times centuries ago
But he only believed what they told him and they told him what he wanted to hear
History often written by unworthy people those who rule by terror and fear.
In Melbourne streets named in his honour his poor victims long forgotten and gone
Into the World of the forgotten but Cromwell's fame is living on
And the lessons we should have learned from history did not lead to a fair go for all
And the winners only write the story though the real truth they never recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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How She Went To Ireland
Dora’s gone to Ireland
Through the sleet and snow;
Promptly she has gone there
In a ship, although
Why she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
That was where, yea, Ireland,
Dora wished to be:
When she felt, in lone times,
Shoots of misery,
Often there, in Ireland,
Dora wished to be.
Hence she’s gone to Ireland,
Since she meant to go,
Through the drift and darkness
Onward labouring, though
That she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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When We Get To England
When we get to england
Will we know when weve arrived?
When we get to england
Will we know if she has died?
Does the girl with the dogs
Still live in the big house
On the corner?
Are the boys collecting frogs
Still marching away
To die in war?
Like its all from a dream
Like its all from some history book
Didnt look too hard
Did I miss something that I should have seen?
When we get to england
Will it still be there?
When we get to england
Will we know where weve arrived?
When we get to england
Will a kiss bring her alive?
Once a farmer in the field
Had to grow enough
To feed his family
Now they pay him for his yield
Just to burn it down
And throw away
Like its all from a dream
Like its all in a crystal ball
Did it fall so hard?
Rest in pieces on a village green
When we get to england
Will it still be there?
When we get to england
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ireland
O WE have loved you through cold and rain
And pitiless frost,
Consuming our offering of blood and brain
Gladly again and again and again,
Though it all seemed lost,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will fight, fight on for you till
Your anguish is past,
The wronged ones righted, the tyrants still. —
Though God has not saved you, yet we will,
At the last, at the last,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will love you in warmth and light
And the happy day,
When you have forgotten the terrible night,
Standing proud and beautiful bright
For ever and aye,
Ireland, Ireland!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Never Been
I have never been to Ireland but one day I will. This is how I picture it in my minds eye.
I love the green fields, the wondering hillsides, and the great grass meadows to the vast shorelines of Ireland.
It is one of nature’s greatest wonders.
It is so full, rich, and ripe with history that calls out to you in the night with sweet songs of melancholy.
These are the plains that the wind cries wallowing in the darkest of somber sleeps.
Soft yet sweet these melodies haunting songs that chills run down the back of your spine.
Nothing more beautiful can be seen from such bony shores.
Tongue spoken lyrically as dances trolley to a jig in synchronous rhythmic syncopation.
So happy and jolly the music skips as if children playing on the sidewalk of your mind.
This my friend is Ireland and you.
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Let It All Be Music
Music is a mirror
Near around my soul
Music is the spirit
Come on let it roll
Music is my nature
People have you heard
Music is my future
Music is the world
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
Music isnt somewhere
Music turns you right
Music is a fever
Leads you day and night
Music is like heaven
Where you wanna be
Music is religion
Music sets you free
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
Music is tomorrow
Music is today
Music is forever
Music is the way
Music is for women
Music is for men
Music is for children
Sing it all again
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
I can feel it, in my soul
I can feel it, in my heart
Sweet sweet sweet music
Music
Sweet sweet sweet music
Sweet music
Play it on
Play it on
My my my my my kind of music
Play it
Play the music
My my my my my kind of music
Play it
I said play it
On and on and on and on
Music
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment of England - Ireland is not a geographical fragment, but a nation.
quote by Charles Stewart Parnell
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It is tradition in Ireland that you're given money for your first communion.
quote by Roma Downey
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When I was younger, I was in love with everything about the British Isles, from British folklore to Celtic music. That was always where my passions were as a young girl, and so I studied folklore as a college student in England and Ireland.
quote by Terri Windling
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Ireland, Ireland
Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland,
Down thy valleys green and sad,
Still thy spirit wanders wailing,
Wanders wailing, wanders mad.
Long ago that anguish took thee,
Ireland, Ireland, green and fair,
Spoilers strong in darkness took thee,
Broke thy heart and left thee there.
Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland,
Still thy spirit wanders mad;
All too late they love that wronged thee,
Ireland, Ireland, green and sad.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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True Welsh
We talk about our origins
For some they are unknown
We talk about our grandfathers
And the places they had grown.
We ask about our Welshness
This is right close to our heart
But we need to go back centuries
To make a truthful start.
So many of our ancestors
Did travel many miles
Some came from Ireland, Scotland, England
And across the waters miles.
They came with hope inside them
To get their families better wealth
But many had employment
This ruined their health.
So as long as you were born in Wales
Keep it closed inside your heart
For you possess the passion many want
From the day that your life starts.
It don't matter where you came from
Or where you're going to
Like Porthcawl rock you're stamped for life
And you're Welsh, through and through.
poem by Katie Evans
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When they talk about family values, it's in a repressive way, as if our American tradition were only the Puritan tradition or the 19th century oppressive tradition. The Christian tradition.
quote by James Hillman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scotland is the Canada of England!
quote by Rainn Wilson
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