Leprechaunia the Brave - Lyrics
Lament, lament Leprechaunia
for the days of glory and evening song
have marched away with the bagpipes blowing
drums beating so slowly and long
tin whistles sounding hollow yet shrill
all have gone away with the countless troops
of little people's feet tramping
in long lines across the emerald fields
into the purple elven glen of no return
gone with the wagons all loaded full with
crocks of moon dust and bottles of magic spells
pans and pots brimming with faerie songs
swinging lanterns lit with enchanted fire
to meet once more with elder kin
who went before into yesteryears
of fair folk kings and queens
waiting in the enchanted realms
but with them when wending
into the twilight as the night was falling
took dewdrop rainbows hanging from leaf and bough
and the moon shadows and stardust on the down
gone be they from whence they came
leaving behind sad few who tarried too long
in mortal realm of short-lived men
and now weep as they sing farewell
goodbye to those swallowed by deep shadow
lying as dark tombstone upon mystic glen
from whence bagpipes, drums and tin whistles sound
forlorn farewell to those left stranded behind in time
abandoned handfuls who too late
heard the bagpipes and drums sound the muster
when rare blue moon rose full above the trees
to shine pathway into chasm and through darkness deep
too late came they in dribs and drabs
where the brooding tombstone shadows
once more had fallen to close the way
against those who lingered far too long
but could only mourn kith and kin
who'd marched out of time and left them
to gather and somehow start once more anew
while waiting for blue moon to again open the path
gone, gone, gone are they
the thousands on tramping feet
who took with them the promise and the glory
when they marched from sight into the purple glen
the proud people have marched away
with flags flapping and banners flying
bagpipes skirling and drums beating
and penny whistles sounding shrill lament
so weep, weep, weep
for we who inherited Leprechaunia
long ages ago when the bagpipes were blowing
when the drums and tin whistles sounded long
(These are the lyrics that Shamus O'Leprechaun might yet write to complete the music score of his solo lament for bagpipes, Leprechaunia the Brave. These lyrics, too, delineate series one and two of the Tales from Leprechaunia. Series two begins next Wednesday.)
See also:
Tales from Leprechaunia
05 Widow Weeds
09 On the Wagon
000 Prose: Humour - Table of Contents
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Comments: 38
I will read up on Irish history sometime and come read this again.
Shamus 'might write:) '
Love the flow of words and the images of little people waiting for a blue moon. Mournful waiting in a mysterious world..
I do not know much of the Irish context in which this is set but I like the poem so much!!
I had to beat this Irish blood in me down with a stick to be able to write this.
Oh the sound of skirlin' bagpipes. Is there any other such sound? Great poem Magi. Loved it...needed it.
Simply inspired choice, Magi. The song itself is beautifully cadenced with a real sense of epic loss and tribulation, the goodbye sincere and final.
Unfortunately, the early history of Ireland's Travelling People is obscure. Being illiterate, they left no written records of their own. Being poor, they have largely been ignored in the literature of 'The Great Tradition.' Only one thing is certain, not all families originated at the same time or in the same way. Some Travelling families date back centuries, others have adopted an itinerant lifestyle in modern times. Some undoubtedly began as itinerant craftsmen and specialists who traveled because the limited demand for work in any one place. Others were originally peasants and laborers who voluntarily went on the road to look for work or else were forced onto it by eviction or some personal reason - a problem with drink, the birth of an illegitimate child, marriage to a 'tinker'.
Dr Gmelch states that the Ward Clan is acknowledged by other Travellers as one of the "oldest families on the road." Stating that their name is derived from Mac an Bhaird, or "Son of the Bard," she suggests that perhaps they took to the road as fugitives from English laws against their traditional, musical profession of singing songs and reciting poetry in the Irish language [5].
I wrote this as a counterpoint to the humour of the series, as well as giving a mythical foundation to the series. It was also a challenge to try and capture, in an enchanting way, the sorrow underlying the culture of the Emerald Isles - a challenge I couldn't resist.
Currently, there are 30 tales already written - I can easily write as many again: the ideas are all jotted down on a piece of paper, which I'd better not lose because they will enrich the fantasy even further. I shudder a little at the work involved, fun though the actually writing is.
Thank you very much, John, for your kind comments, and gracing me with your presence.
Thank you for the lovely compliment, my dear friend.
Love and Light to you.
I like what you're doing with yours. Keep playing, Shamus.
The " maestro" in you is always in tune with the highest octave!
thank you Magi
For you and all the others who are my dear friends, I have resurrected
"the proud people have marched away
with flags flapping and banners flying
bagpipes skirling and drums beating
and penny whistles sounding shrill lament
so weep, weep, weep
for we who inherited Leprechaunia
long ages ago when the bagpipes were blowing
when the drums and tin whistles sounded long"
so that the enchantment of smiles accompanies us in our own journeys. With brave smiles and holding hands, we march out of mystic glens and on to glory.
Traveling people, enchantment and a sense of loss..
You combine them beautifully.
We are all travellers - either trudging along the road to nowhere or walking along the quiet way to the enchantment that is our heritage. We either walk alone or hand-in-hand with dear companions ... you are among the latter.
Well written - evokes memories of the Hobbits and Gandalf of Middle Earth, for me,any way.