Posted by IonaLass
on July 15, 2012, 2:17 am
67.185.138.x
sbc Posted: 03-May-10 13:24
Appeared in the 1991 issue of Popular Folk Music Today along with the article I just posted. Still rings true now with Liam's recent passing.
A Bodhran Broke in A Fallen Hand
The rain is soft on the whitethorn bush
Lonesome now for the leaves that fell
The dawn sleeps on with the silent thrush
The rust is damp on the chapel bell.
There's word on the wing from branch to branch
A lump-throat word that chokes a song
From Malin Head to Slievenamon.
That a bodhran broke on a fallen hand.
The mind goes back to catch the times
In the wireless thing beneath the thatch
When music spread from foreign climes
And local songs seemed out of touch.
The coals of old that were raked too long
Would somther soon without a start
But the Clancy Brothers came along
And lit a fire on the chilly hearth.
They hit the floor with hobnail boots
With sticks and strings and pipes of air
And blew the fire to a blaze
And the sparks of it went everywhere.
Across "the bowl of bitter tears"
Where the hearth was now a pictured glass
The one from Beare with whitened eyes
Gave the Clancy lads their starting chance.
They strode on screen with zest and glory
And sang the tunes we heard before.
Ireland danced in song and story
And rugs were ripped from the kitchen floor
From coast to coast and lands afar
Aran sweaters swelled with glee
Come back; come back to Connemara!
Come, every rider from the sea!
The rain is soft on the whitethorn bush
Lonesome now for the leaves that fell
The dawn sleeps on with the silent thrush
The rust is damp on the chapel bell.
There's word on the wing from branch to branch
A lump-throat word that chokes a song
From Malin Head to Slievenamon.
That a bodhran broke on a fallen hand.
Michael Doyle
Camden, N.J.
November 9, 1990
191 
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