Yesterday I played Dungeons and Dragons in a one off in between our regular group, Lorem Ipsum's sessions. As it turns out, the real big bad in D&D is scheduling when you are playing as an adult with jobs, side gigs, dog shows, dance gigs, and author signings to try to sort through. So the son of one of my friends from LI (who also runs a character in that current campaign) DM'd for us and our regular DM got to play a character. Very cool.
[Note to self: It doesn't matter how long you have researched to find just the right name for your character...Róisín (Roh-sheen) looks like raisin to everyone that doesn't have any experience in the Irish language, and they will call you that. Anyway, back to the post...]
One of the things we do to frustrate our regular DM is that we keep picking up familiars. Strays, they are. I honestly don't remember how it happened with the first one, Terrence the Wombat, but since then we have another wombat, two goats, and several horses in our group. So this song by Colm R. McGuinness jumped out at me the first time I heard it, and I thought it was appropriate for this week. Enjoy, and remember, a troll is not a familiar.
This weekend was my first one back at the Georgia Renaissance Festival (spring) and despite the dust and a slightly skittish wolfhound it was glorious. One more Irish tune to play for this weekend of pipes, drums, and Celtic culture, i nGaeilge of course. It mentions Grace O'Malley! How could I not...enjoy.
One more from Chasing Abbey because I am more and more in love with this band...and I'm still waiting for them to release Saoirse... But this one speaks to the state of our country and our world today.
"The scars of war are hard to fade/so who's to gain?/So who's to gain? Ní mise (not me)/Ní tusa (not you)\Ní mise (not me)/Ní tusa (not you)."
I'm not going to pretend that y'all don't know what is going on in the world right now. We all do, especially those of us in the US as we watch the juxtaposition of reports out of Iran and its neighbors and the rhetoric coming from the White House. Again and again...and it's only been a year and a half.
This song is not about that, but it feels like the entire world is crying arís is arís (again and again) every time a new atrocity happens. Also, this past weekend was the 110th anniversary of the Easter Rising, and I would imagine that the ancestors are looking at us in amazement and horror that we have not yet learned those lessons. Cén uair a chríochaíonn sé? (When does it end?)
Hopefully before the Dorchadas, Dorchadas, Dorchadas sa chroí (Darkness, Darkness Darkness in the heart)...
I've been listening to a lot of Irish music this spring, and finding that I can pick up more Gaeilge (Irish) that way than I am on Duolingo or by just looking up words and sentences. While waiting for Chasing Abbey to put out Saoirse, I'm sharing a song from the Irish Kings. Enjoy...and ROAR.
Lyrics:
Fair auld pride for the county I Was called upon to lead Was born and bred with a braisened head By a wild Atlantic sea
Through fear we ride and death we stride And face a life of toil We're marching on where we belong On Ireland's rugged soil
So run and power on and power on And follow me I'll bring you to the light In through the fight
As men we live and bleed So fear be gone and blood be on Our tweed and garments wore And men will pray and rue the day They hear the Irish roar
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D. (Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D. (Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
We are but land and grit and sand And bog and stone and flame Our spirits wake through crashing lakes And songs without a name
From Clare to Down, from hill to town The bloodline runs afar And every grave where good men lay Shall guide us through the dark
So rise and power on and power on And follow me I'll lead you through the light, into the fight As men we shall but lead
Our mothers weep, their sorrows deep But know the cause is true For every son that bears a gun A thousand more will do
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D. (Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D. (Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D. (Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D. (Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
(Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
(Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
(Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
(Glóir, Croí, Grá, Éire)
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D.
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D.
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D.
Ireland Bleed Ireland Live Ireland Breathe Ireland Lift Ireland Lead Ireland Be I.R.E.L.A.N.D.
This weekend was the Irish Fest in Camden, SC. We took Stanley and Willow and had a pretty good if not SUNNY AND HOT good time. Today's music choice is one I was already familiar with and heard played...it's an absolute banger and a sad take on the leftovers after the British ruled Ireland. Éire go deo.
I will be brief today because the song takes a lot of breath control. Give it a try! Also, it will forever remind my of my Irish Fae Dog, Bryn, who would thump her tail in time to this version.
O-ro the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o
O-ro the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o
And in that bog there was a hole, a rare hole, a rattlin' hole
With the hole in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
And in that hole there was a tree, a rare tree, a rattlin' tree
With the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that tree there was a limb, a rare limb, a rattlin' limb
With the limb on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that limb there was a branch, a rare branch, a rattlin' branch
With the branch on the limb and the limb on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
(Repeat, adding a line each time)
Now on that branch there was a twig, a rare twig, a rattlin' twig.....
Now on that twig there was a nest, a rare nest, a rattlin' nest.....
Now in that nest there was an egg , a rare egg, a rattlin' egg.....
Now in that egg there was a bird, a rare bird, a rattlin' bird.....
Now on that bird there was a feather, a rare feather, a rattlin' feather .....
So recently, my adopted brother Tony convinced me that Sinners was possibly the best horror movie he'd seen in a long time. If you know him, you know what high praise that is...and it's a vampire movie, but no sparkles. This is more Lost Boys fare, if that had been a scary movie.
So, I watched it and...man alive. It was scary, gory (I mean, vampires y'all, there's gonna be some blood), and one of the best things I've seen in awhile. The story was so compelling and the acting so good that I kept wondering who they'd found that looked so much like Michael B. Jordan. HE WAS TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PEOPLE, Y'ALL.
Anyway, to start off my Sinners Musical Selections, here's a scene from the movie plus the songs that, if you know me, you know spoke to my heart. Enjoy...and be warned, this isn't pretty. But soooooo good.
Happy St. Patrick's Day! I've posted Rattlin Bog before, and with that one, right now, all I can think of is my sweet Bryn wagging her tail in time to that song, so it is on hold for a bit. Enjoy this one, which every time my Simon hears it he says he used to hear it in the club back in Keighley.
Bet he can't river dance, though. Enjoy! Happy St. Patrick's Day!
