WONKY DONKEY SONG UNOFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO

The Old Donkey.

Once upon a time, not that long ago just outside of Westport in County Mayo there was an old farmer who owned an even older donkey.  One day the poor old donkey (who couldn’t see very well), fell into the farmer’s well.

The farmer heard the donkey braying and praying or whatever donkey’s do when they fall into a well.  He weighed up the situation, apologised to the donkey and informed him that as he was so old he wasn’t worth the bother of saving as it would cost too much to call out the fire brigade in order to winch him out.

Instead the farmer called his neighbours together and after deciding that he didn’t use the well anymore it would be far cheaper and easier just to fill in the well. So the farmer began to haul soil in his tractor and with the help of his neighbours they started to shovel the soil down the well.

“What about the donkey?” one of the neighbours shouted,

“Aah it’s kinder just to put him out of his misery” replied the farmer.

The old donkey was extremely annoyed when he heard this and began to get very worried, jumping up and down and saying things like

“Eee haw, eee haw, eee Haw”

This in donkey language meant,

“Aah come on now lads it’s not funny anymore, you’re going to get me all mucky if you don’t pack it in”

Unfortunately for the donkey no one understood donkey language and they just kept shovelling.

More and more soil came down upon the old donkey and he became increasingly agitated as no one seemed to be listening to his cries.

Suddenly an idea came to the donkey, every time he felt a load of soil land on his back he would just shake it off and stand onto it.  Every time he felt the load of soil on his back he shook it off and stepped up, shovel after shovel, load after load, shake it off and step up, shake it off and step up, shake it off and step up.  He began to repeat those words in his head as a way of encouraging himself.

 No matter how tired he became or how painful it became, no matter how distressing it appeared the old donkey just kept fighting back the pain and the panic and just kept repeating to himself Shake it off and step up, shake it off and step up.

It wasn’t long before the old donkey appeared at the top of the well. Battered and tired, he looked at the old farmer, smiled, and stepped over the wall of the well onto firm ground.

What at first seemed to be the cause of the old donkey’s problem actually turned out to be of help to him. What threatened to bury him instead helped him all because he gave it a bit of thought and refused to be beaten.

We can all learn a lesson from that old donkey.  In life we will often come up against problems but if we approach them in a positive way and refuse to give in to panic, bitterness, hopelessness, or self-pity. There will be an answer

The video is courtesy of Craig Smith you tube.

Murphy's Hat.

Murphy’s Hat.

Pat Murphy showed up at Mass one Sunday and the priest almost fell out of the pulpit when he saw him. You see. Pat Murphy hadn’t been to church for years.

After Mass, the priest caught up with him and said,

"Hello Pat, I am so glad you decided to come to Mass. What made you come?"

Murphy said, "I got to be honest with you Father, a while back, I
misplaced me hat and I really, really love that hat. I know that Duffy has a hat just like mine and I knew he came to church every Sunday. I also knew that he had to take off his hat during Mass and I figured he would leave it in the back of the church. So, I was going to leave after Communion and steal Duffy's hat."

The priest said, "Well Pat, I notice that you didn't steal Duffy's hat. What changed your mind?"

Murphy replied, "Well, after I heard your sermon on the 10
Commandments I decided that I didn't need to steal Duffy's hat after all."

With a tear in his eye the priest gave Murphy a big smile and said;

"After I talked about 'Thou Shalt Not Steal' you decided you would rather do without your hat than burn in hell, is that it?"

Murphy slowly shook his head. "No, Father, it was after you talked about 'Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery, ' It was then that I remembered where I left me hat."

The Giants Causeway.

The Giants Causeway.

In County Antrim there is a place that is steeped in the mythology and folklore of Ireland. That place is known as The Giants Causeway.

Its ‘discovery’ was announced in 1693 by Sir Richard Bulkeley, a fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, when presenting a paper to the Royal Society. However, the ‘discoverer’ who should have received credit for it was the Bishop of Derry who had visited the site a year earlier.

There was a great deal of argument concerning the creation of the Causeway.  Some said it had been created by men with picks and chisels, some said it was the result of nature, and some said it was the work of a giant.

The issue was finally settled in 1771 when a Frenchman by the name of Demarest, announced the true origin of the Causeway was the result of volcanic action.

In 1740, a Dublin spinster’s realistic sketches brought the Causeway to the attention of the public and ever since it has attracted visitors from all over the world.

What of its folklore?

One of the legends that surround The Giants Causeway concerns two giants, Finn McCool and Benandonner

Finn MacCool, the handsome giant of Ireland, lived on the wild northern coast, and occasionally he sat at the edge of the sea, sucking on his thumb. Whenever he had a question, any puzzle at all, he sucked that thumb and the answer came.

Finn fell in love with a giantess named Oonagh who lived on a rocky isle across the Irish Sea. Trouble was Finn could not swim, so how would he reach his beloved? He thought a while, and then he tore up some trees, and he built himself a boat, but when he stepped inside, that boat sank under his weight. After all, Finn was a giant.

So Finn sucked on his thumb, and next thing he was gathering columns of rock, six-sided each, flat-topped and weighing 10 tons. He stood on the shore and tossed those columns, one after another, into the sea. In this way he formed a path all the way to Oonagh’s Island.

Oonagh was very impressed (what woman wouldn’t be?), and it was not long before they were married and shortly after she had a son (fast workers, these giants?). They called their son Ossian and he grew up and left home to live with the faeries (I’m saying nothing?) but let’s just say they were sad when he left.

However, they were not sad for long and they commenced singing. Everyone could hear them and as their singing was better than Jedward’s it didn’t upset them. Everyone that is except Benandonner, he was another giant that lived a lonely miserable life on the Isle of Straffa and he was very happy being miserable and did not wish to hear happy singing coming from his neighbours.

Benandonner decided he had to silence yer man Finn and while he was at it he might as well take his wife home with him so with this in mind he challenged Finn for Oonagh’s hand.  Now Benandonner was a big ugly smelly yoke and as he dressed in old rat skins and had three eyes, one in the middle of his forehead, he had no chance of Oonagh but Finn Invited him to come over shouting,

“Come on over if yer think yer hard enough”.

The following day Benandonner arrived at the house and knocked on the door.  Oonagh answered the knock and said to Benandonner,

“Finn’s out at the minute come back tomorrow”

 “O.K” said Benandonner and as this made him very miserable altogether... he was quite happy.

When Finn arrived back he saw Benandonner’s footprints outside his door. “Holy mother of god would ye look at the size of them” he began having second thoughts. 

“Oonagh, that fellagh must be massive”, said Finn. 

Oonagh said “Don’t you be worrying; I have an idea that’ll put manners on him”

The next morning there was a knock on the door.  This time Finn was home but he was hiding in the baby cradle that had once been Ossian’s.  He was covered with blankets so only his eyes could be seen.

“Is this yer baby” Benandonner asked,

“Yes he is, and his father will be home soon”, replied Oonagh.

She had baked some cakes and invited Benandonner to sit down and have some while he waited. What he didn’t know was that she had baked a cake with pieces of metal in it and it was this that she gave him.  When he took a bite he let out a scream,

 “I’ve bust me tooth” he wailed, “What have you put in them”.

 “Only a bit of butter and cream, a few eggs and some flour, sure the baby loves them” said Oonagh, and she gave one to Finn (without any metal in it).

“That child must have teeth of iron” said Benandonner and he bent over and for some unknown reason he stuck his finger in the baby’s mouth (he wasn’t a bright giant).

Surprise, surprise, Crunch! Finn bit down so hard he bit the finger clean off.

Benandonner let out another scream, “What kind of child is this, he’s strong enough to bite off a giant’s finger?”

“Aragh, he’s only a wee thing” said Oonagh, “He’s not that strong but his daddy is trying to teach him how to get better”

Benandonner laughed nervously. "What kind of things is he teaching him?" he asked.

Oonagh smiled “Oh just things” she said.

Benandonner began to tremble, and then he said,

"I'll be going now," and he backed out of the house and ran across the causeway. Halfway across a thought struck him, and he stopped. Working feverishly with all his great strength, he carried away the middle section of those rocks, one by one, for he had no wish for a visit from the monstrous Finn.

So that is the reason why only the beginning and the end remain of the Giant's Causeway, one on Straffa Island, home of Benandonner, and another on the Antrim coast, just near the place where Finn lived.

Volcanic action or a giant’s fear, you decide.

Ellen Hanley. The Colleen Bawn, (1803-1819).

 

Ellen Hanley. The Colleen Bawn, (1803-1819).

 

The remains of Ellen Hanley, a young girl of fifteen were found at Kilrush, County Clare.  It was the autumn of 1819 and her body had been washed ashore, she had only been married six weeks and her husband John Scanlan was the prime suspect.  Ellen was known to have been an outstanding beauty, she was intelligent and friendly. Her mother had died when Ellen was only six years old and she was reared by her uncle, John Connery.

John Scanlan was only in his twenties when he met Ellen and he quickly proposed marriage to her.  He was well connected and belonged to a higher social class than Ellen. This difference worried Ellen and she first refused his offer of marriage.  However, Scanlan convinced her that everything would be alright and after calming her fears the marriage was arranged.  Ellen eloped in July, 1819 and it has been suggested that they were married either in Limerick or in the Old Church at Kilrush.

The novelty of marriage to a low born girl was soon to wear off for Scanlan. He became tired of his young bride and with the aid of his servant, Stephen Sullivan; he began to plan her murder.  Sullivan took Ellen for a trip on the river using Scanlan’s boat, he was armed with a gun and he was meant to shoot her and throw her body overboard, however, he lost his nerve and returned to shore.  Scanlan was furious, he plied Sullivan with whiskey and then somehow he convinced Ellen to resume their boat trip.  This time Sullivan murdered her with a musket, removed her garments and ring, hiding them in the boat.  He tied a rock to her body and dumped her remains into the cold dark waters of the Shannon.  Six weeks later her body was washed ashore at Moneypoint, Kilrush on the 6^th September 1819. The crime was to raise outrage and horror across all classes.

Scanlan and Sullivan went on the run but even in the early 19^th  century the powers of the law had a long reach and Scanlan was the first to be caught. He was charged with the murder of Ellen Hanley and brought to trial in March 1820.  Due to his high social position Scanlan expected to be acquitted for the murder, after all Ellen Hanley was nothing more than a low born commoner. His trial took place and created a sensation in 19^th century Ireland, Scanlan’s family hired Daniel O’Connell (the Liberator) to act for him as defence barrister and Scanlan sat back and waited for the verdict of innocent to be declared. He was mistaken, found guilty he was sentenced to death. On the 16^th March 1820 he was transported to Gallows Green, County Clare, and the place of execution where he was duly hanged.

Stephen Sullivan was captured soon afterwards and he was tried four months after Scanlan.  His trial took place in Limerick and caused just as much of a sensation as Scanlan’s.  He was found guilty of murder and sentenced to death by hanging, just before the rope went around his neck he confessed his guilt and admitted that it was his employer (Scanlan) who instigated the murder.

Ellen Hanley is buried in Burrane cemetery near Kilrush. A Celtic cross was erected bearing the following inscription:

"Here lies the Colleen Bawn,
Murdered on the Shannon,
July 14th 1819. R.I.P."

Unfortunately souvenir hunters have chipped off so much over the years there is now no longer any trace of the cross. So ends the tragic story of the Colleen Bawn (the Fair Girl. If ever you get off the ferry in Killimer pay a visit to her memorial.

                 Escape of The Gingerbread Man.  A tale about a storyteller in the west of Ireland.

I don't normally post video clips but I found this very moving and thought I'd share it with you.  Hope you like it. 

The History of the Bodhrán.

The word Bodhrán is said to mean Deafening or Thunderous Drum.  The history of the Bodhrán is shrouded in mystery and subject to speculation. Is it an ancient Irish instrument or did it originally arrive on our shores from some far off place?  Some historians believe that its roots in Africa and arrived here from Spain, others believe that it had its origins in Asia and arrived here with the Celts.  There is evidence of the use of an instrument very similar to a Bodhrán that was used in agriculture and this was called a Wight or Wecht in Ulster and a Dallán in the south west of Ireland. This was used by agricultural workers to separate grain seed from the chaff or shells. Grain was poured into the hollow section of the Bodhrán on a breezy day, the light shells were blown away by the wind and the heavy grain was left behind. Sometimes workers would raise the Bodhrán above their heads and jump up and down to agitate the grain. It was said that the Bodhrán hung above the fireplace and in winter after the harvest was finished for the year the farm labourers being short of money and unable to buy musical instruments used whatever they had to hand or could make from bits and pieces. The grain winnower was used as a drum during musical seisúns.

Another use for the Bodhrán was during harvest festivals and by the Wren boys and Mummers to make noise in order to announce their arrival on the scene.

The Bodhrán is a frame drum made from a circle of wood (ash) upon this we have the stretched skin of an animal. Usually that of a goat but you may also find Bodhrán that use the skin of a horse, pony, sheep, or dog. At first glance it reminds you of a sieve similar to that used to sift sand and it is easy to understand the confusion when someone asks the question “did it evolve from a working instrument into a musical instrument or was it the other way round?”  In fact you will still see it used for both purposes in third world countries today.

The majority of these drums are used purely in religious or cultural festivals, and it is only in countries such as Ireland, the Basque country and Spain, where they are an integral part of musical entertainment. And it is only in Ireland that the frame drum has reached a high degree of sophistication. It was first introduced into modern Irish Traditional Music by Seán Ó Riada. He inserted arrangements for the Bodhrán into the music of his group Ceoltóiri Chualann. They later became known as the Chieftains.

The Bodhrán is very similar to another frame drum from Cornwall which was also used for harvesting grain. It is called a Crowdy Crawn (Croder crawn) and is mentioned as early as 1880.  It is a wooden hoop covered with sheepskin and is used in Cornish Traditional Music.  The Crowdy Crawn originated as a tool for gathering and measuring grain in the same way that the Bodhrán evolved from the Dallán.

A frame drum is played by either striking it with your bare hand or with a piece of wood called a tipper, beater, or cipín. Originally tippers may have been fashioned from pieces of bone; however, today they are made from ash, holly, or hickory.  The drum is usually played in a seated position, held vertically on the player's thigh and supported by his or her upper body and arm (usually on the left side, for a right-handed player), with the hand placed on the inside of the skin where it is able to control the tension (and therefore the pitch) by applying varying amounts of pressure and also the amount of surface area being played, with the back of the hand against the crossbar, if present. The drum is struck with the other arm (usually the right) and is played either with the bare hand or with a tipper.  Never play the drum when it is too soft or limp. Keep the drum when not in use in a case in a cool place so that the skin can relax. You can then bring it to playing tension by gentle and expert use of a heat of your choice (I have used gentle heat applied by a small travelling hair dryer).  If the skin is too tight, use a little water on the inside of the skin (not the outside) and give it a few minutes to work. Never use Beer or Guinness - save that for drinking. I also do not recommend tightening the skin with hand pressure - only if there is no other means of heating available. My Bodhrán is tuneable so I no longer have this problem.

Bodhrán players are generally regarded with derision by other musicians and there may be real reasons for this. The Bodhrán is considered by many as an easy instrument to play, especially those who have aspirations of becoming a ‘musician’ without any of the hard work or practice and they will use it as a passport in order to enter a seisúns. Unfortunately they are usually dreadful and should be removed as quickly as possible. However, when played properly the Bodhrán becomes the heartbeat of the music and when played alongside a flute there can be no more beautiful and haunting sound. The Bodhrán is usually used to follow the sound of other musicians and not to lead but there are a couple of songs that can be accompanied solely by the Bodhrán. One of which I have printed below.

The Bodhrán Song
(Brian O'Rourke - MÓC Music)

Oh I am a year old kid
I'm worth scarcely fifteen quid.
I'm the kind of beast you might well look down on
But my value will increase
At the time of my decease
For when I grow up I want to be a bodhrán.

If you kill me for my meat
You won't find me very sweet.
Your palate I'm afraid I'll soon turn sour on.
Ah but if you do me in
For the sake of my thick skin
You'll find I make a tasty little bodhrán.

Now my parents Bill and Nan,
They do not approve my plan
To become a yoke for every yob to pound on
Ah but I would sooner scamper
With a bang than with a whimper
And achieve reincarnation as a bodhrán.

I look forward to the day
When I leave off eating hay
And become a drum to entertain a crowd on
And I'll make my presence felt
With each well-delivered belt
As a fully qualified and licensed bodhrán.

And 'tis when I'm killed and cured
My career will be assured
I'll be a skin you'll see no scum nor scour on
But with studs around my rim
I'll be sound in wind and limb
And I'll make a dandy, handy little bodhrán.

Oh my heart with joy expands
When I dream of far-off lands
And consider all the streets that I will sound on
And I pity my poor ma
Who has never seen a Fleadh
Or indulged in foreign travel as a bodhrán.

For a hornpipe or a reel
A dead donkey has no feel
Or a horse or cow or sheep that has its shroud on
And you can't join in a jig
If you're a former grade A pig
But you can wallop out the lot if you're a bodhrán.

So if e'er you're feeling low
To a session you should go
And bring me there to exercise an hour on.
You can strike a mighty thump
On my belly, back or rump
But I thank you if you'd wait till I'm a bodhrán.

When I dedicate my hide,
I'll enhance the family pride
And tradition is a thing I won't fall down on
For I'll bear a few young bucks
Who'll inherit my good looks
And be proud to know their old one is a bodhrán.

And I don't think I'll much mind
When I've left himself behind
For the critter can no longer turn the power on
For with a celtic ink design
Tattooed on my behind
I can be a very sexy little bodhrán

Now I think you've had enough
Of this rubbishy old guff
So I'll put a sudden end to my wee amhrán
And quite soon my bloody bleat
Will become a steady beat
When I start my new existence as a bodhrán.

So as we say “Sin é” (that’s it). That is my understanding of the history of the Bodhrán. You may agree or disagree but I hope you find it of interest.

 Top image = Bodhrán by Bernie Prendergast.

Bottom image =  A Shebeen near Listowel attributed to Bridget Maria Fitzgerald and dates  c. 1842.