Only yesterday

Only yesterday

In Richmond with Mary Margaret

I enjoy the music of Nanci Griffith. Haven’t heard much of it recently but somehow found myself listening to her a bit yesterday. Many of the songs I knew – Roseville Fair, From A Distance. Love At The Five And Dime and On Grafton Street for example. Then a few I had never heard before.

I like the way she introduces her songs. That always appeals to me, when a singer tells the story of the song or links it with moments in life.

Then I heard her introduce this one and I was struck by her friend’s name – Mary Margaret, and reminded of the Mary Margaret in our lives who has been a friend to so many for so long. I could imagine her being Nanci’s childhood Mary Margaret and the plans they’d have made.

In any case, thought I’d share it here. Thanks Nanci.

Thanks Mary Margaret.


THERE’S A LIGHT BEYOND THESE WOODS

There’s a light beyond these woods, Mary Margaret.
Do you think that we will go there,
And see what makes it shine, Mary Margaret?
It’s almost morning, and we’ve talked all night,
You know we’ve made big plans for ten-year-olds,
You and I.

Have you met my new boy friend, Margaret?
His name is John, and he rides my bus to school,
And he holds my hand.
He’s fourteen, he’s my older man.
But we’ll still be the best of friends,
The three of us, Margaret, John, and I.

Let’s go to New York City, Margaret!
We’ll hide out in the subways
And drink the poets’ wine, oh,
But I had John, so you went and I stayed behind.
But you were home in time for the senior prom,
When we lost John.

The fantasies we plan, I’m living them now.
All the dreams we sang when we knew how,
Well, they haven’t changed.
There’s never been two friends like you and me,
Mary Margaret.

It’s nice to see your family growing, Margaret.
Your daughter and your husband there,
They really treat you right…
But we’ve talked all night
And what about the light, that glowed beyond
Our woods when we were ten?
You were the rambler then.

The fantasies we planned, well, Maggie,
I’m living them now.
All the dreams we sang, oh, we damn sure knew
How, but I haven’t changed.
There’ll never be two friends like you and me,
Maggie, can’t you see?

There’s a light beyond your woods, Mary Margaret

11th November

11th November

Today recalls the 11th November 1918 when World War 1 came to an end. This song is in memory of all those who died during that time, and since, leaving so many to mourn and grive them. This song is about wanting peace and remembering the futility that is violence, the futility that is hatred. “Deliver us Lord from every evil and grant us peace in our day”.

https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=945280646001790
More Max!

More Max!

On Monday I travelled to Enniskillen to spend a few hours with the priests of Clogher Diocese.  It was part of their gathering for some reflection on ministry and life in the diocese.  I am very thankful to all for their kind welcome and gracious listening.  I hope they day was of some benefit to them, certainly I was happy to be in their midst.

As I travelled to Enniskillen, I listened to Max Boyce (mentioned him in a recent blog) and I very much enjoyed his wit, humour, story-telling (which was part of the theme chosen by the Clogher priests) and, of course, his singing.  I don’t get all the rugby references as I’m not really a fan and some of the place names are beyond my grasp.  Laughter is a common language though and I understood most of it. So too, the power of song.

Somewhere between the laughter and Rugby songs, Max Boyce sang this one!  Loved it.  I looked it up just now and am happy that Max refers to it as his favourite song.

One afternoon from a Council school
A boy came home to play
With paints and coloured pencils
And his homework for the day
We’ve got to paint the valley mam
For Mrs Davies art
What colour is the valley mam
And will you help me start

 

Shall I paint the Con Club yellow
And paint the Welfare blue
Paint old Mr Davies red
And all his pigeons too
Paint the man who kept our ball
Paint him looking sad
What colour is the valley mam
What colour is it dad

 

Dad, if mam goes down the shop
To fetch the milk and bread
Ask her fetch me back some paint
Some gold and white and red
Ask her fetch me back some green
The bit I’ve got gone hard
Ask her fetch me back some green
Ask her will you dad

 

His father took him by the hand
And they walked down Albion Street
Down past the old Rock Incline
To where the Council put a seat
Where old men say at the close of day
Dy’n ni wedi g’neud ein sair    (Translates “We’ve done our share”)
And the colour in their faces say
The tools are on the bar
The tools are on the bar  (Miners’ saying referring to the end of the shift – day’s work)

 

And that’s the colour that we want
That no shop has ever sold
You can’t buy that in Woolies lad
With your reds and greens and gold
It’s a colour you can’t buy lad
No matter what you pay
But that’s the colour that we want
It’s a sort of Rhondda grey

 

It’s a colour you can’t buy lad
No matter what you pay
But that’s the colour that we want
They call it Rhondda grey

 

They call it
Rhonnda grey.

 

Noticed this version too – something lovely about another taking up the song and doing it justice.  Like the emotion in Max’ eyes when he hears the young singer make her own of his words.

 


And just one more ……
One thing led to another

One thing led to another

Listening to Mid West Radio today, someone requested a song by Max Boyce.  I had never heard for him but Gerry Glennon found a version of him singing a song I knew and it led me to wonder about him so I checked him out on Spotify.  He’s quite funny and seems to base much of his humour around Welsh Rugby.  I listened to a few tracks and then came across this one … “Ten Thousand Instant Christians”.  He’s wondering about the great reputation Welsh supporters have as choir singers but laments a shut down church he noticed when leaving one of the games in Cardiff.  Its windows were broken, the door locked, the shutters down and a “For Sale” sign on display.   – “Hymns of yesterday, only half-remembered. I wonder what He’ll say” …

 

When He sees the Hope and Anchor
Where we sang before the game
Where ‘Cwm Rhondda’ and ‘Delilah’
First sounded both the same
The bar was filled with singing
Songs came on a tray
Saturday was Sunday
I wonder what He’ll say

What will He say?
What will He say?
I wonder, I wonder what He’ll say?

When He sees the North Enclosure
With its belly full of ale
And sees that male voice flagon
Sing to the twisted barrier rail
‘Cwm Rhondda’ and ‘Penmachno’
Hymns of yesterday
Only half remembered
I wonder what He’ll say

What will He say?
What will He say?
I wonder, I wonder what He’ll say?

When He sees those touch-line tenors
With their copies made of sand
Ten Thousand Instant Christians
And the Glynneath Silver Band
‘C’mon man, ref, for Christ’s sake
That ball was still in play’
Ten Thousand Instant Christians
I wonder what He’ll say

What will He say?
What will He say?
I wonder, I wonder what He’ll say?

When He sees that empty chapel
With its locked and shuttered door
And sees that dusty Bible
Cobweb covered floors
The numbers slowly dwindling
Much fewer now each day
Calfaria now a bingo hall
I wonder what He’ll say

What will He say?
What will He say?
I wonder, I wonder what He’ll say?

I wonder.

I am glad I heard Gerry Glennon today and glad someone requested a song by Max Boyce.  Gave me something to think about and something I felt I should share!

 

and I think this is the one Gerry Glennon played …

Like it … love it

Like it … love it

Came across this today.  Not my favourite song or even up there but what a performance!!

AND … one blog reader who liked this as well shared a wonderful video clip with me.  Thanks Peter.  Really REALLY enjoyed this one.

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music
Would you hold it near as it were your own?

It’s a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken
Perhaps they’re better left unsung
I don’t know, don’t really care
Let there be songs to fill the air

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow

Reach out your hand if your cup be empty
If your cup is full may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of men

There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow

You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall you fall alone
If you should stand then who’s to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home


Songwriters: Jerome J. Garcia / Robert C. Hunter
Ripple lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group

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