As one might expect, in all the years I’ve been associated with and performed “Irish”, “Celtic” and “Traditional” music, I’ve frequently had audiences request “I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen”. I do remember this song being sung at my family’s St Patrick’s Day gatherings, I have a recording of the song by the venerable Furies and had always taken it to be of Irish origin. After all, the song does contain all of the collective angst of the immigrant experience, suggestions of hardship and homesickness that appears in many songs from the Victorian Era.

Long ago, I had heard that the song was actually written in the United States, but by an Irish immigrant whose wife was slowly dying, probably of consumption. The poor man, unable to be of any help, wrote this tender song to relieve his wife’s pain. Of course, that doesn’t explain how he then came to sell the song for his own profit.

I finally went in search of the song by locating sheet music at the Music Division of the Library of Congress. They have a considerable online library and is my first stop when looking for older American music.

“I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen” was written in 1875 by Thomas P. Westendorf and published at Cincinnati, Ohio by 1876. A quick search on Westendorf reveals he was a school teacher in Plainfield, Indiana. There are apocryphal stories around Mr. Westendorf’s authorship of the song. Some sources say it was indeed written for his wife (however, her real name was “Jennie”) and that she was away from home visiting relations back East in NY and was pining for her. However that doesn’t really explain why, if the song is personal, why he would want to take her across an ocean wide.

In 1875 a ballad called “Barney, Take Me Home Again” was published, again in Cincinnati, Ohio, and authored by a George W. Persley. This song, performed in minstrel shows and other popular venues, is sung by a female voice and tells of a longing to return to a far-away, green home. A look at the sheet music, also available at the Library of Congress, contains the following words on the title page “To my friend, Thomas P. Westendorf, Plainfield, Ind.”

It would appear, then, that rather than an intensely personal expression of despair, Westendorf and Persley were having a bit of a musical conversation with each other. In Westendorf’s composition, Barney is answering Kathleen.

Knowing that “I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen” is not of Irish origin and not even written to express a personal longing has, ironically, only increased my respect for the song. What a tremendous job Westendorf accomplished, to write a song that so encapsulated the collective fears of a massive immigration movement that it would be wrapped up in over 100 years of Irish-American song and worthy of a little discussion in 2011.

Dee and I are working on arrangements now for both Kathleen and Barney’s songs, first sung so far in the past.

Ask Your Father | Where We’ve Been | CD Baby.

For several years, we’ve used CDBaby.com to host our music sales. The new CD “Where We’ve Been”, is available. CDBaby is very cool in that they also allow digital previews of the tracks and downloads.

We are currently on day 6 of a music tour of Southwestern Ohio and listening to news reports of the pending hurricane along the East Coast. Stay safe! We will be returning home to Connecticut after the storm has passed.

Best wishes,

Rich

Traditional, arranged by Ask Your Father

The Parting Glass

Of all the money that e’er I spent
I’ve spent it in good company
And all the harm that ever I did
Alas it was to none but me
And all I’ve done for want of wit
To memory now I can’t recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

If I had money enough to spend
And leisure to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in the town
That sorely has my heart beguiled
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips
I own she has my heart enthralled
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

Oh, all the comrades that e’er I had
They’re sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e’er I had
They’d wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I’ll gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be with you all

Dee Kelly: Vocal
Rich Kelly: Guitar, mandolin

And so we come to the final track from “Where We’ve Been”. Many will know this song from countless recordings. This song has existed in some form or another since the late 1600′s. There is a lot of scholarship readily available, too much to repeat here, in fact. The song likely comes from Scotland. The present form of the lyric begins taking shape around 1776.

This one song that has traveled very well, both across continents, but also across times. The depth of sentiment, the emotional truth of it, is what propels it along. This is frequently sung at the end of an evening, as friends bundle up to head up, as the glasses are drained, and one experiences the warmth of good friends and the joy of an evening spent together.

So, from myself and Dee, a good night! And joy be with you, all.

Cheers,
Rich

Sam Hall

Traditional, Arrangement by Ask Your Father

Oh me name it is Sam Hall chimney sweep, chimney sweep,
Oh me name it is Sam Hall chimney sweep,
Oh me name it is Sam Hall and I’ve robbed both rich and small,
And me  neck will pay for all when I die, when I die.
And me neck will pay for all when I die

They say that in the jail I shall lie, I shall lie
Oh, they say that in the jail, I shall lie
They say that in the jail, I shall drink no more brown ale
But be damned if e’er I fail til I die, til I die
But be damned if e’er I fail, til I die.

I have twenty pounds in store stowed away, stowed away
I have twenty pounds in store stowed away
I have twenty pounds and ten that I’ll never touch again
But you’ll buy me one last round in the end, in the end
But you’ll buy me one last round in the end

Oh they brought me to Coothill in a cart,in a cart,
Oh they brought me to Coothill in a cart,
Oh they brought me to Coothill, and I stopped to make my will
And the best of friends must part, so must I, so must I,
For the best of friends must part, so must I.

Up the ladder I did grope, that’s no joke, that’s no joke,
Up the ladder, I did grope that’s no joke,
Up the ladder I did grope, and the hangman pulled the rope,
And ne’er a word I spoke, tumbling down, tumbling down,
And ne’er a word I spoke tumbling down.

Oh me name it is Sam Hall chimney sweep, chimney sweep,
Oh me name it is Sam Hall chimney sweep,
Oh me name it is Sam Hall, and I’ve robbed both rich and small,
And me neck will pay for all when I die, when I die.
And me neck will pay for all when I die

Dee Kelly: Lead vocal
Rick Spencer: Backing vocal
Rich Kelly: Guitars, Tenor banjo, Tin whistle

I learned this song from a popular recording by Paddy Reilly. In Reilly’s arrangement of this much older ballad, Sam is a sympathetic figure with a Robin Hood-like appeal. He has been tried and sentenced to death for stealing, but he does so to protect the poor. This is a very 20th Century spin on this tale.

The song may be descended from a 1649 broadside (a printed lyric sheet, sometimes published in newspapers or otherwise distributed), called “Levellers and Diggers”. The song’s meter and the overall lyrical theme is certainly present in the also-popular song “Captain Kidd” which dates back to the early 1700′s. The central figure in Sam Hall was a real person, Jack Hall, a London chimneysweep executed in the early 1700′s for burglary.

By 1850, an English music hall comedian named G.W. Ross rewrote the song and made Sam Hall an unrepentant and black hat-wearing character, who, on the gallows, calls out to various people and curses them with a hearty and overly-dramatic “Damn your eyes”, or worse, depending on the performance.

In our arrangement, we’ve sought to strike a balance. We have removed the stanza in which Sam implores everyone to “help the poor” and added stanzas we discovered from another variant which shows Sam more concerned with his next brown ale.

If, like me, you find song origins absolutely intriguing, there is an excellent essay, called “Samuel Hall’s Family Tree“, written by Bertrand Harris Bronson and published in a collection titled “The Ballad as Song“, published by the University of California Press, 1969.

Although the song is clearly of English origin, the place of Sam’s execution has changed among the variants. I favored the choice of Cootehill, a place in County Cavan, Ireland. Some of my maternal ancestors emigrated from Cavan around 1850 and settled in the Boston, Massachusetts area.

Cheers!
Rich

I Will Be There

Words and Music by Richard J. Kelly, © 2011. BMI, All Rights Reserved
Arranged by Ask Your Father

I will bring to you a bottle of rain
From the South Carolina sky
Like you felt when you were a child
Like you felt when you were a child.

I will string for you a broken fiddle
Made of West Kentucky pine
Like your father played for you
Like your father played for you

Oh, I will be there
I will be there
In the dark of your night
I will be there in a prayer
And I always will care.

I will play for you a shiny tin whistle
From the western Irish shore
Like you heard when first we wed
Like you heard when first we wed.

I will be your friend just like Jesus was
When you strayed far from the path
And the way had grown cold
And you knew the way had grown cold.

-Chorus-

I will sing for you a song wet with tears
Like I sang when first I knew
That your love had grown cold
And you loved me no more

-Chorus-

Dee Kelly: Vocals
Rick Spencer: Dulcimer
Rich Kelly: Guitar, Irish cittern, mandolin, tin whistle

Another song initially drafted during my heady days living in New York City,  during a time I was listening to more Americana, old-timey music. There isn’t much else to say about this song. I recently discovered the earliest draft of this in a small notepad I used to carry with me. The verses and chorus, mostly unchanged, as are scribbled (my handwriting is atrocious). On a facing page is the music notated, also unchanged from what you hear. I don’t recall writing this song, but it’s appearance in that particular notepad means the song would have been written away from home, perhaps on one of my many walks through the City, on a subway, in a cafe. It’s rare for me to have a song appear so nearly complete in one flash.

Words and Music by Alan Doyle. Original recording by Great Big Sea

This arrangement by Ask Your Father

Boston And St. John’s

Hey, don’t tell me that it’s morning
Can we keep the curtains drawn
I haven’t given you fair warning
But your ship, she sails at dawn

[Chorus]
It’s true you must be going but I swear you won’t be long
There isn’t that much ocean between Boston and St. John’s
You’re a rover and you’re bound to sail away
You’re a rover can you love me anyway?

And if some suitor comes approaching
Will I let him through my door
And what if you return half broken
Will you still want me anymore?

[Chorus]

Close your eyes and dream
Tell me what you see
Tell me what you want
Just tell me that you’ll wait for me

[Chorus]

Dee Kelly: Vocal
Rich Kelly: Guitars, Irish cittern

This cover from one of our favorite bands, Great Big Sea, really moved me and has been in our set list for many performances over the years. My grandfather, Richard C. Kelly, first came to Boston from Newfoundland in the early 1920′s. The Kelly’s had spent a generation on Bell Island, in Conception Bay, working in the ore mines. Previously, they had been fishermen out of Harbour Grace. With both industries struggling into the 20th Century, they, and many others, emigrated either to other provinces. Many would land in Boston, Massachusetts.

Newfoundland’s Irish population is unique in the world, in that Newfoundland was populated almost exclusively by Irish from the southeastern shore of Ireland. Every Spring, ships bound for the fisheries in Newfoundland would stop at Waterford and other ports to pick up itinerant workers. At the end of the season, the workers would return. This occurred for centuries, with workers slowly and then more steadily remaining at Newfoundland and building new lives there. This connection back to Ireland created an identity unique from the Irish who emigrated to other lands. The customs, the language, the music, endured.

The Lament of the Irish Emigrant

Words by Helen Selina Blackwood. Music by William R. Dempster

I’m sittin’ on the stile, Mary,
  Where we sat side by side
On a bright May mornin’ long ago,
  When first you were my bride;
The corn was springin’ fresh and green,
  And the lark sang loud and high–
And the red was on your lip, Mary,
  And the love-light in your eye.

The place is little changed, Mary,
  The day is bright as then,
The lark’s loud song is in my ear,
  And the corn is green again;
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
  And your breath warm on my cheek,
And I still keep list’ning for the words
  You never more will speak.

‘Tis but a step down yonder lane,
  And the little church stands near,
The church where we were wed, Mary,
  I see the spire from here.
But the graveyard lies between, Mary,
  And my step might break your rest–
For I’ve laid you, darling! down to sleep,
  With your baby on your breast.

I’m very lonely now, Mary,
  For the poor make no new friends,
But, O, they love them better still,
  The few our Father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary,
  My blessin’ and my pride:
There ‘s nothin’ left to care for now,
  Since my poor Mary died.

Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary,
  That still kept hoping on,
When the trust in God had left my soul,
  And my arm’s young strength was gone:
There was comfort ever on your lip,
  And the kind look on your brow–
I bless you, Mary, for that same,
  Though you cannot hear me now.

I thank you for the patient smile
  When your heart was fit to break,
When the hunger pain was gnawin’ there,
  And you hid it, for my sake!
I bless you for the pleasant word,
  When your heart was sad and sore–
O, I’m thankful you are gone, Mary,
  Where grief can’t reach you more!

I’m biddin’ you a long farewell,
  My Mary–kind and true!
But I’ll not forget you, darling!
  In the land I’m goin’ to;
They say there ‘s bread and work for all,
  And the sun shines always there–
But I’ll not forget old Ireland,
  Were it fifty times as fair!

And often in those grand old woods
  I’ll sit, and shut my eyes,
And my heart will travel back again
  To the place where Mary lies;
And I’ll think I see the little stile
  Where we sat side by side:
And the springin’ corn, and the bright May morn,
  When first you were my bride.

Dee Kelly: Vocals
Rick Spencer: Concertina
Rich Kelly: Guitars, mandolin

I must admit I do so love this song! As I have hinted at in previous blogs, if you are an Irish-American and Catholic, then it is very likely your sense of self is shaped in part by stories of the Irish Famine, which officially begins in 1846 and lasts through 1852. The social and personal upheaval of those years created a new identity, altered the political course of a nation, created decades of uncertainty and also led to so many of the songs we know today. However, it is very challenging to find a contemporary song written in Ireland during the famine years. This, of course, makes sense. In a nation struggling with hunger, disease, discontent, there is little room for poetry. Many of the songs we sing on St Patrick’s Day in pubs, social gatherings and parties, at least here in the US, are late 19th Century and, in many cases, 20th Century sentimental creations and many written by Americans.

I discovered this song in the Boston Public Library. The manuscript was published in Boston, in 1843. Not only is this a contemporary account of the despair in Ireland, but it predates the official famine years. This shows how difficult life was during at least the entire 1840′s decade.

Lament was written by Helen Sheridan, a granddaughter of Irish playwright Richard Sheridan. Helen, born in 1807 to a family of means, was raised in London and evidently was noted for her beauty and wit in London society. She lived a very comfortable life and produced numerous poems and songs. Lament is probably her best-known work and was published in London, Boston and NY. Soon after the song was published, she was criticized for writing beneath her class, and accused of being disingenuous in her empathy for the plight of the character in the song. I don’t know about any of that. I look at these lyrics and the song passionately captures the heartbreak of loss and the bittersweet hope of new life. Helen Sheridan died in 1867 with the complete title of Helen Selina Blackwood, Baroness Dufferin and Claneboye, Helen Selina Hay, Countess of Gifford.

We decided to omit the 5th verse, largely due to time constraint. At six minutes, thirty seconds, this is the longest song on the CD. We also have taken liberties with elements of the original melody to accommodate the transposing from piano to guitar.

By the 1890′s this song-poem was included in Oxford’s books of British verse. I find it fascinating that I’ve been unable to discover any recordings of this song in the 20th Century, except for 1 made by the Rankin Family. I suspect the song fell out of favor in the US as Irish immigrants began assimilating into American culture. We see the rise in sentimental songs being written here and looking back across the sea to a mythical dear green place. I believe the song may have been too raw,  too close to the truth, to fit the new narrative emerging.

Old Maid in the Garret

Traditional

Now I’ve often heard it said from my father and my mother
That going to a wedding was the makings of another
Well, if this be so, then I’ll go without a biddance
Oh kind providence, won’t you send me to a wedding

And it’s oh, dear me, how would it be
If I died an old maid in the garrett?

Well, now there’s my sister Jean, she’s not handsome or good-looking
Scarcely fifteen and a fellow she was courting
Now, she’s twenty-four with a son and a daughter
Here am I at forty-five and I’ve never had an offer

I can cook and I can sew, I can keep the house right tidy
And wake up in the morning to get the breakfast ready
There’s nothing in this wide world would make me half so cheery
As a wee, fat man who would call me his own deary

So come landsman or come kingsman, come tinker or come tailor
Come fiddler or come dancer, come ploughboy or come sailor
Come rich man, come poor man, come bore or come witty
Come any man at all who will marry me for pity

Well, now I the way home, for nobody’s heeding
Oh, nobody’s heeding to poor Annie’s bleeding
So, I the way home to my own pity garret
If I can’t have a man, then I’ll have to get a parrot

Dee Kelly: Vocals
Rick Spencer: 5-string banjo
Rich Kelly: Guitar, mandolin, bodhran

This is a 20th Century reworking of a song that is likely much older, although the structure of the tune suggests this may have been played in dance halls. Known as “Old Maid in the Garret” in Scotland, the definitive modern version was recorded by Peggy Seeger in 1956.

Frequently, the word “parrot” is dropped and the word “carrot” substituted. We just didn’t go there.

Cheers!

Rich

Carrickfergus

Traditional, arranged by Ask Your Father

I wish I was in Carrickfergus,
Only for nights in Ballygrant
I would swim over the deepest ocean,
Only for nights in Ballygrant,
But the sea is wide and I cannot cross over
And neither have I the wings to fly
I wish I could meet a handsome boatsman
To ferry me over, my love to find

But in Kilkenny, it is reported,
On marble stones there as black as ink
With gold and silver I would support her,
But I’ll sing no more ’till I get a drink.
For I’m drunk today, and I’m seldom sober,
A handsome rover from town to town,
Ah, but I’m sick now, my days are numbered,
Come all you young men and lay me down.

Dee Kelly: Vocal
Rich Kelly: Guitar, Irish cittern, mandolin

I first heard this song sung in the late 1980′s in Boston pubs. It’s a lovely, sad and haunting song that draws me in any time I hear it. Our arrangement of this very widely-performed song is based on an arrangement I picked up in NYC while playing with The Terrible Beauties. This song is a staple in our set list and we are truly delighted to have included it on the Where We’ve Been CD.

“Carrickfergus” is traditional and its origins quite old and not well understood, certainly not by me at least. Stepping backwards in time, the first reference I find to this song is in Dominic Behan’s song collection, Ireland Sings. Behans writes that he learned the song from the actor, Peter O’Toole. The song is clearly much older and is likely what is called a macaronic song, a song made up of parts of different languages. That would make sense, if the song is of Irish Gaelic origin and what has come down to us is the anglicized version. There are traces of “The Water is Wide” in some of the phrases. I have read the original version could be an Irish song, called “Do bhí bean uasal”, but I can’t confirm that.

Carrickfergus is a town in Co. Antrim in Northern Ireland. That is notable, since the song has been called The Kerry Boatman! Also, the reference to “…Kilkenny, where the marble stones there are black as ink”, likely refers to gravestones, which are black in that area.

Cheers!
Rich

Fear an Bhata

Traditional (?), arranged by Ask Your Father

Often haunting the highest hilltop
I scan the ocean, thy sail to see
Wilt come tonight, love, wilt come tomorrow
Wilt ever come, love, to comfort me

A fhir an bháta, is na hó-ro eile
A fhir an bháta, is na hó-ro eile
A fhir an bháta, is na hó-ro eile
O fare thee well, love, where’er thou be

They call thee fickle, they call thee false one
And seek to change me but all in vain
Thou art my dream throughout the dark night
And every morning I watch the main

Chorus

There’s not a harbor, but well I know it,
Where you go wandering and sit awhile
And all old folk you win with talking
And charm the maidens with song and smile

Chorus

Dost thou remember the promise made me,
The tartan plaidie, a silken gown
That ring of gold with thy hair and portrait
That gown and ring I shall never own

 Chorus

Dee Kelly: Vocal
Rick Spencer: Guitar
Rich Kelly: Irish cittern

This haunting and beautiful song of Scottish origin is widely known. The title translates to “The Boatman”. Though usually thought to be traditional, there is an article, titled “Traditional Gaelic Song and Singing Sean-Nos” written by a Craig Cockburn, in which the author claims the song was written in the late 1800′s by Jane Finlayson, of Tong, Lewis. I don’t have the scholarship to verify that story, but it is interesting.

By the way, the Gaelic chorus contains the phrase “is na hó-ro eile”. I do not speak any variant of Gaelic, but I’m told that is a nonsense phrase, filler, something like singing “Yeah, yeah, yeah”. Dee and I have performed this song for many years.