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| Dermot is playing a guitar--(he's in a turquoise shirt) |
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| About 20 musicians were present; maybe 50 people in the room at Nighttown |
This blog is based in Northeast Ohio, what was "La Nation du Chat," the Cat Nation, as the French-Canadian furtraders called the Land of the Erie Indians. The blog will touch on many issues: nature, the environment, literature, poetry, society, and politics. Around here we think of the Lake Erie shoreline as the North Coast of the United States--a Frontier in the midst of the Rust Belt.
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| Dermot is playing a guitar--(he's in a turquoise shirt) |
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| About 20 musicians were present; maybe 50 people in the room at Nighttown |
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| The entire cast of artists, singers, musicians |
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| Dermot on low whistle, Krista Parran, singer, and Paul Dreisbach, who played Irish uilleann pipes and oboe |
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| Dermot Somerville, left, with John Clark and Tim Regan |
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| Tina Dreisbach, Becca Rhoades, and Ulle Laido |
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| James A. Garfield (his head back on his body after an act of vandalism) |
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| The beautiful old hall where the performance took place |
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| A view of old St. Peter's Church |
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| St. Pete's Holy Water Font |
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| The simple, beautiful Altar |
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| Emil Nolde's "Pfingsten" (Pentecost) |
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| Mike Coughlin and Tim Musser |
| éamon an chnoic [Traidisiúnta Éireannach]Cé hé sin amuigh, a bhfuil faobhar ar a guth, Ag réabadh mo dhorais dúnta? Mise Ĕamon a' Chnoic, atá báite fuair fliuch, Ó shíorshúil sléibhte is gleannta. A lao ghil s'a chuid, cad a dhéanainnse dhuit, Mura gcuirfhinn ort binn de mo ghúna? Is go bhfuil púdar go tiubh á shiorshéadadh leat, Is go mbéimish ar aon múchta. Is fada mise 'muigh faoi shneachta's faoi shioc, ‘s gan dánacht agam ar aon neach, Mo sheisreach gan scor, is mo bhranar gan cur, Agus gan iad agam ar aon chor. Níl cairid agam, is danaid liom san, A ghlachfadh mé moch ná déanach, Is go gcaithfidh mé gabháil thar farraige sned of the hill [Traditional Irish]O who is outside with an edge on his voice Beating my bolted door? It is Ned of the Hill, soaked and cold From long trudging the mountains and glens. My darling and my dear, what could I do But cover you with my gown? And with powder so thick firing upon you, We should both be killed. I am a long time outside in snow & sleet Daringly facing all challenges. My plow without cut & my field without seed And neither my own anyway. I have no friend with whom I could stay Or who'd take me in early or late, So I must traverse the ocean east Where alas are none of my family. Trasna na dtonnta [Traidisiúnta Éireannach]Trasna na dtonnta, dul siar, dul siar, Slán leis an uaigneas ‘is slán leis an gcian; Geal é mo chroí, agus geal í an ghrian, Geal bheith ag filleadh go hÉirinn! Chonaic mo dhóthain de Thíortha i gcéin, Ór agus airgead, saibhreas an tsaoil, Éiríonn an croí ‘nam le breacadh gach lae ‘S mé druidim le dúthaigh mo mhuintir! Ar mo thriall siar ó éirigh mo chroí An aimsir go hálainn is tonnta deas réidh Stiúradh go díreach go dúthaigh mo chliabh over the waves [Traditional Irish]Over the waves, going west, going west! Farewell to loneliness and to remoteness. Bright is my heart and bright is the sun, Bright to be returning to Ireland! I saw my fill of countries abroad, Gold and silver, the wealth of the world, My heart rises in me at the break of each day, As I draw closer to the land of my people! Westward bound - oh my heart rose, Weather so beautiful, waves so calm. Steer directly to land of my bosom And I'll be in Ireland tomorrow! |