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Sleeve Notes
I don't know if most Irishmen realize how thankful they should be to Mother England. I know four of them who do — Tommy Makem and The Clancys. We make a nice living out of singing Irish rebel songs, drinking songs and laments of one sort or another. Without England on our backs, they would never have been made. The rebel songs, of course, come from a 700-year struggle to shake off John Bull's benevolence, the laments from all the times we were beaten down and, needless to say, a drink is always needed to raise the heart in troubled times. I suppose, too, we're fortunate to be speaking English. The patrons of Folk City or One Sheridan Square might not be too happy with a night of Gaelic. It's an ill wind that blows no good.
Proudly the note of the trumpet is sounding,
Proudly the war cries arise on the gale.
Irish songs are not all a reaction against England. There was a wealth of Irish culture in existence when Buckingham Palace was still a mud cabin. Going from the East to the West Coast of Ireland is like going backwards in time. The models in Dublin's Grafton Street windows wear Paris fashions while the Aran Island fishermen are wearing homespuns. The songs, too, change their character. Songs like "Finnegan's Wake" and "Mick McGuire'" are Dublin Music Hall songs fashioned after their London forerunners. The Gaelic songs of the West come from a much more ancient Celtic tradition. This all started with Oliver Cromwell when he landed in Ireland with his conquering army. "To hell or to Connaught" was his slogan as he drove the Celts, and with them their culture,, back to the rocks of Connemara. There they remained, protected, at least for a while, by the barrier of language. Thank God the Irish Folklore Commission has taped a tremendous amount of the remnants of this oral culture, before radio and TV deal their death-blow. Even when I went to the Aran Islands a couple of years ago, the steamer, the Dun Angus, had a P.A. system blaring "The Banana Boat Song". One thing did give me heart, though. Even if the second most popular song in Connemara was "Davy Crockett", first place was still held by "Truaigh Nach Mise Bean Phaidin (My grief that I'm not Phaidin's wife)", an ancient beauty.
Notes by Liam Clancy
