Comhaltas Archive

ker's Fancy" (hornpipes) "Contentmentis Wealth" and "Finlay's Jig" (Jigs),Dowd's Number Nine" and "Jackson's"(reels), "The Pigeon On The Gate" and"The Woman of The House" (reels),"The Stage" and "The Rights of Man"(hornpipes).And what of Gillespies style? Musicologistshave analysed it. Scholars havewritten theses. Anthopologists havetraced it back to primitive man when heslew his first boar and uttered his pristinepraise to the daities.We the people of Ireland feel in it allthe pride, the passion, the exuberantleaps of the spirit to God, and the darklonely black despair of defeat that camewith Kin sale and Aughrim, that isencapsuled in that untranslatable Gaelicword DUcbas.We hear it in the magic and melodyof an island that sings, that has defiedadversity and will again rise to greatnessin spite of craven governments and corruptheads of state who seek to degradeand brothelize our youth.Saint Thomas Aquinas bade us listen." Through listening alone comes faithand knowledge of a perfect God ." Ifwelisten to the music of Gillespie we shallfind in it the highest aspiration of ourrace.Long may he live to spirit us away toa world beyond the worlds end, th Landof Heart's Desire. Maybe John Cowanwas right. We may all have to be fiercecareful that we'll find our way back.If Hughie Gillespie can bring me andothers half-way along the road to Hevenit can truly be said of him, "Andsurely the Eternal Father found thesingle talent well employed."The Rambling HouseMemories of the Rambling Houseover 60 years ago, are as fresh today inmy memory as they were when I was achild. Every time I pass myoId homestead,memories keep flashing back tome of those happy nights, hearing andseeing all the ramblers arrive, whetherhail, rain or snow. Everyone of themhad their own special sugan chair.Actually each one of them carved hisown initials on his chair. The ramblerswould arrive at the house around 8o'clock and take their places around thebig open turf fire. The house was a longthatched white-washed one, the floorswere flagstone. Music and story tellingwere the main events. There was aspecial place over the fireplace calledthe loft where all the musical instrumentswere stored - the harp, thefiddle, concertina, melodion, jews harp,flute, tin whistle and mouth organ. Ofcourse there were many more ramblinghouses in the area, but this was specialin my memory, as it was myoId home.The tradition of the rambling house waspassed from generation to generation.Saturday night was a special night in therambling house and this was storytellingnight. The storytelling went onwhile my Aunts and Grandmother wentquietly about preparing for Sundaymorning Mass. Shoes were polished,trousers pressed while my father and theworkmen all shared one razor to cleanup for 6 0' clock Mass on Sunday.Some of the people who played inour house were: Lil Carmody, Kate Horgan,Hannie Horgan, Jack Dillon andPatsy Horgan. Patsy was a dancingteacher and a fine fiddle player. SteveO'Connor was known for his fine voiceand gave many a rendering. Some ofthese played at the great house in Ennismorefor the Harvest Home Hall. Someof the tunes they played were "Tim theturncoat", "The Quarrellsome Piper"Maire Ni hAragan Vi Bheaslaoiand "The Lark in the Strand."I remember one very cold Novembernight in 1925 . Well, a robin couldn' twalk the road that night with the blackfrost. I overheard my Aunt saying "I'mafraid we won't have ramblers tonight",when 10 and behold, suddenly the latchwas lifted and in came the ramblers. MyAunt greeted them with the usual" suigh sios" and they took their chairsaround the fire. Up with the music -the hornpipe, the "High Cauld Cap" thefour hand reel and many other tunes. Alot of tunes played that night werehanded down from a fine old masterhimself - Patrick Reidy. My Grandmotheralways said that whereverthere's music there's love.Any night that we didn't have musicians,we had a character who playedan ivy leaf. His name was Jack Gogginand he hailed from Gweenguillin. Heworked on the farm with my Father.He would say to me when I was a child" watch out for the biggest ivy leaf."The older the leaf the sweeter.the tune.He would put two leaves together hewould then grease them together withgoose grease, then place them on a flatstone and tease the outer edges togetherwith the palm of his hand. Sometimeshe would use an iron. He would thenuse foal's covering to reseal the leaves.When this was done he would hold theivy leaf between his thumbs and gentlyblow. This produced a very plaintiveand lonely sound. His favourite tunewas the "Culfhionn", he loved to playslow airs. The poor man died as helived, he was found under a tree coveredin ivy . An ivy leaf was found in hiswaistcoat pocket.Looking back now, people werenever very lonely . They made their ownenjoyment. They were "easy going",everyone had a story to tell. There wasa great sense of togetherness. There wasno drink in the houses that time, nofalse courage. Men and women whoknew how to laugh and who had songand music in their hearts. May God resttheir souls.8