Erin is a Hiberno-English derivative of the Irish word “Éirinn”.

Poets and nineteenth-century Irish nationalists used Erin in English as a romantic name for Ireland. In this context, along with Hibernia, Erin is the name given to the female personification of Ireland.

According to Irish mythology and folklore, the name was originally given to the island by the Milesians after the goddess Ériu.

Erin go bragh (“Éirinn go brách” in standard orthography), a slogan dating from the 1798 revolution, is often translated as “Ireland forever”.

(from Wikipedia)

Wake up, oh wake up, don’t sleep, please
I had another one of those dreams
Where your feet are bound together
And the tin man is spinning again
Hold my hand, I will stand as the world turns around me
Lock the door to the yard or the wind is bound
To blow my fragile anchors away

Who’s gonna carry the blame?
Who’s gonna take up the campaign
When these injured streets are bleeding?
Politicians in command are washing their hands
Got to tend the marching bands
When the battered streets are
When the battered streets are
When the battered streets are bleeding

And I am losing my hold
There are soldiers in the hallway
They will break down these walls
There’s an apparation behind the bedroom blinds
There is black ink in the bathroom sink
If the gunmen don’t let her go
Or the snake outside will swallow the house

And I know you will try
But you cannot protect me from these shadows inside
‘Cause these dreams I have are so much bigger
Than the blade of a knife or a shotgun’s trigger
If the gunmen don’t let her go
Or the snake outside will swallow the house

Who’s gonna carry the blame?
Who’s gonna take up the campaign
When these injured streets are bleeding?
Politicians in command are washing their hands
Got to tend the marching bands
When the battered streets are
When the battered streets are
When the battered streets are bleeding

Oliver Goldsmith (born 1730) was an anglo-irish poet and writer. His book, Mrs. Mary Blaze, An Elegy on the Glory of Her Sex, a nursery rhyme work, was illustrated by the artist Randolph Caldecott.

Good people all with one accord,
Lament for Mary Blaize,
She never wanted one good word,
From those who spoke her praise,
The needy seldom passed her door,
And always found her kind,
She freely lent to all the poor,
Who left a pledge behind.

She strove the neighbour hood to please,
With manners wondrous winning,
She never followed wicked ways,
Unless when she was sinning,
At church in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size,
She never slumbered in her pew,
But when she closed her eyes.

Her love was sought I do declare,
By twenty beaux and more,
The King himself did seem to care,
Where she had walked before,
But wealth and finery all fled,
And hangers-on all gone,
The doctors found when she was dead,
The life within her none.

Let us lament in sorrow sore,
For Kent Street well may say,
That had she lived a twelve month more,
She had not died today.

John Doyle is an irish musician and composer. With an extensive work as an acoustic guitarist for several bands and celtic folk artists, Doyle is now facing a solo career.

From his 2005 album, Wayward, this is Bitter the Parting, with english singer Kate Rusby.

With a red rose in Summer, the leaves soft and green
You walked without speaking your arm held in mine
And the lon dubh* was singing as we passed by
Bitter the parting of lovers entwined

You said you loved me, you said you cared
You told me you’d never go and leave me behind
But the one that I loved has altered his mind
And Bitter the parting of lovers entwined

I have to leave now, this place I adore
No more can I wander these wild glens and shores
For those tyrants have robbed me, of house and land pride
And it’s bitter the parting of lovers entwined

The dew from the morning still hung from the leaves
The dogs they were barking from over the fields
When you sighed and I cried for what we have done
And it’s bitter the parting of the wounded in love

So we kissed and we parted and from her I did steer
I sat by the river and watched it flow by
Like time in a bottle it weaves and it glides
Bitter the parting of lovers entwined

(*Lon dubh: a blackbird)

http://www.johndoylemusic.com/
Image: Wikimedia Commons

Jack Frost is a folkloric character, related to winter and cold weather. His roots are possibly Viking and Anglo-Saxon. He’s often depicted with a paint brush, coloring foliages with the several tones of autumn and winter.

Little  Jack Frost, a tale of the trees, in the voice of the “first lady of british folk”,
Kate Rusby
.

 

 

 

Here is a tale of the trees in a wood
They were never that pleased on the land that they stood.
So they upped and they walked as far as they could
‘Til they felt the sun shine on their branches.

I was little boy lost, and I was little boy blue
I am little Jack Frost but I am warm through and through
It’s not easy to hide when your heart’s on full view
Oh, tonight, cruel world be forgiving
Oh, for once in my life I am living.

There they did stand and there they did stay
When there came a young boy who was running away
From a mad world, a bad world, a world of decay
And it’s comfort he sought in their branches

I was little boy lost, and I was little boy blue
I am little Jack Frost and but I am warm through and through
It’s not easy to hide when your heart’s on full view
Oh, tonight, cruel world be forgiving
Oh, for once in my life I am living.

There we found love and there we found joy
And the warmth in his heart oh, it filled the young boy
And his friends taught him magic and secrets of old
While the trees kept him safe with their branches.

I was little boy lost, and I was little boy blue
I am little Jack Frost but I am warm through and through
It’s not easy to hide when your heart’s on full view
Oh, tonight cruel world be forgiven

I was little boy lost, and I was little boy blue
I’m little Jack Frost but I am warm through and through
It’s not easy to hide when your heart’s on full view
Oh, tonight, cruel world be forgiving
Oh, for once in my life I am living.

http://www.katerusby.com

Karen Matheson is a folk singer. Born in 1963, his songs are mainly written on Scottish Gaelic language. In 2005 she released the album Downriver, acoustic and carefully weaved.

I Will Not Wear the Willow, by his own words, “is written in the style of a murder ballad that perhaps could have been written 200 years ago, though what is not so traditional is that it’s written from a female perspective.”

I will not wear the willow
Though my love is gone
There’s a cool corner of the pillow
I will lay my head on
I will lay my head on

I will not grieve in sorrow
For what has come to pass
Turn my thoughts to tomorrow
I will not cast the glass
Will not cast the glass

I will not tremble
With the women in black
He’s gone to the devil
He won’t be coming back

Some say he took the shilling
Some say he took to the sea
Some said there was a killing
And the killer was he
The killer was he

I will not wear the willow
Will not lower my eyes
Though it’s not on my pillow
I know where he lies
I know where he lies

I will not tremble
With the women in black
He’s gone to the devil
He won’t be coming back

₢ http://www.karenmatheson.com/
 

Lesiëm is a german-based new-age musical project that combines elements of classical, folk, electronic and gregorian chant music. From its second album, Chapter 2 (2001), here’s Britannia, an ode to the Empire of the Seas.

(Image: Wikimedia Commons)
 

Angelus O Britanicus
Angelicus deus
Aurora musis amica
Britannia sacra
Angelus O Britanicus
Angelicus deus
Aurora musis amica
Britannia sacra

 

You’re my heart, you’re my soul and my dream.
Sailing ship on the ocean of mean.
Battlefields filled with blood and with pain,
but I still hold your flag without shame
Want your love …
Get your pain …

Angelus O Britanicus
Angelicus deus
Aurora musis amica
Britannia sacra

Solstice is from the Latin and is made up from two words given roughly as: sol = sun and stice = stopped. Celtic Druí do not believe that the Sun stops so we use the old Irish word “Tairisem” which means standing still. In summer this Sun Standing happens in the month of June around the 20th, 21st or 22nd when we honour Etain, the White Mare Goddess. This is the highest point of the solar year when the Sun reaches it maximum height in the Sky. The Sun is at its highest at noon and shadows are at their shortest. There are almost 20 hours of daylight and only four hours of darkness if you are in Ireland at this time.

This is not a specifically Gaelic holiday and many Pagan cultures celebrate this time with many festivals known by a range of names – Denmark, Sankt Hans Aften. Wiccan sabbat Litha. Slavonia, St. John’s Night. Alban Heruin. Gaul (old France), Feast of Epona, (white mare goddess). Roman Empire, Vestalia. Catholic countries, feast of St. John the Baptist – this was an attempt to shift the natives away for the true date by setting the 24th of June as bone fire night.

Source: Ireland’s Druidschool
http://www.druidschool.com/site/1030100/page/846679

It’s a Great Day for the Irish, an anthem of St. Patrick’s Day celebrations in New York. Judy Garland sings on The Bob Hope Show, 1940.

Oh, I woke me up this morning and I heard a joyful song
From the throats of happy Irishmen, a hundred thousand strong
Sure it was the Hibernian Brigade
Lining up for to start the big parade
So I fetched me Sunday bonnet and the flag I love so well
And I bought meself a shamrock just to wear in me lapel
Don’t you know that today’s March seventeen?
It’s the day for the wearing of the green………..

It’s a great day for the Irish, it’s a great day for fair
The side-walks of New York are thick with Blarney
For shure you’d think New York was Old Killarney

Begosh and begorragh, every Irish son and daughter
Every good old Irish name and their relation
They come from Tipperary, Donegal and County Kerry,

They are all here to join the celebration……….
There’s Connolly and Donnelly, Ryan, O’Brien,
McLoughlin and Lynch, Pat Flannigan, McFadden, McPhearson and Finch
Hogan and Logan, Fitzpatrick, O’Bannigan, Danny O’Doole and Seamus O’Tool!

 

With a classical and Early Music profile, the members of the late band Estampie, Syrah, Pop and Fil, joined together again with a new proposal: bring the sounds and feelings of the Mediaeval world to contemporaneous audiences. The new band, QNTAL, released its first album in 1992.

In 2003, after 8 years away from studios, the band released a work based on the ancient legend of Tristan and Isolde. Labeled QNTAL III, it is the most representative of the style of the band: not answering marketing urgencies nor bringing an artificial and idealized past, but joining together the sounds and emotions of the 12th. and 21st. centuries.

Vedes Amigo, a spanish cantiga d’amigo, tells us about the jealousy of Isolde, the Blonde, knowing that her beloved Tristan is married in Bretagne with her rival, Isolde of the White Hands.

Vedes, amigo, o que oj’oy
Dizer de vs, assy Deus mi perdon,
Que amades ja outra e mi non;
Mays, s’ verdade, vingar m’ey assy:

Punharey ja de vus non querer ben,
E pesar-mh-a n mays que outra ren.

Oy dizer, por me fazer pesar
Amades vs outra, meu traedor;
E, s’ verdade, par nostro Senhor,
Direy-vus como me cuyd’a vingar:

Punharey …

E se eu esto por verdade sey
Que mi dizen, meu amigo, par Deus,
Chorarey muyto d’estes olhos meus
E direy-vus como me vingarey:

Punharey …

http://www.qntal.de/english/

A 45-day event starting on August, 15, the Scarborough Fair was a trade meeting and a festival of music and goods in the Mediaeval town of Scarborough, England.

The song with the same name tells a story of a man challenged by his lover with a series of hard tasks, like doing a shirt without a seam and wash it in a dry well. The prize for such impossible tasks would be taking her love back.

The theme of impossible tasks given by a courted lover is common in Mediaeval music and literature.

On video, british actress and singer Amy Nuttall sings Scarborough Fair.

(Image: Scarborough Castle)

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Remember me to one who lives there,
He once was a true love of mine.
Tell him to make me a cambric shirt,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Without no seam nor needle work,
Then he’ll be a true love of mine.
Tell him to find me an acre of land,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Between the salt water and the sea strand,
Then he’ll be a true love of mine.
Tell him to reap it with a sickle of leather,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather,
Then he’ll be a true love of mine.
Are you going to Scarborough fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Remember me to one who lives there,
He once was a true love of mine.