|
|
Am Anfang (© Walkin' Tom 1980s)
Am Anfang war das Licht. Dann ging es wieder aus und der Spot(t) an.
D-
Schönen guten Abend, Leute, seid ihr alle da?
Dort drüben die Touristen mit Sofortbildkameras
Natürlich auch die Pressefritzen vom Musikkanal
Ganz hinten in der Ecke die netten Herrn vom B.K.A.
A
Warum seid ihr gekommen?
G D
Was hat euch hergebracht?
A
Das Fahrrad und der Autobus
G D
Für eine lange Nacht
D A
Die Bühne ist auch nicht sehr groß, die Gage eher knapp
A G D
Vom Eintrittsgeld fällt uns nicht mal 'ne gold'ne Nase ab
D A
Die Instrumente sind verstimmt, die Mikros nur gelieh'n
A G D
Das Ganze hat bis zu dem Tag die Welt noch nicht geseh'n
Warum seid ihr gekommen?
Was ist bloß euer Lohn?
Ihr hattet schon verloren
Lang vor dem ersten Ton
Ihr wollt euch hier erholen, bei Spielen und bei Brot
Doch das Leben ist 'ne Bühne und wir haben nicht geprobt
Und wer hat je behauptet, Rock'n Roll sei lieb und fein?
Wir machen's wie die Cowboys: Dreckig, böse und gemein!
Warum seid ihr gekommen?
Warum seid ihr dabei?
Der Eintritt ist zwar billig
Der Preis aber ist high
Warum seid ihr gekommen?
Mann, was hab' ich euch getan?
Dann muss ich halt gemeinsam
Mit euch durch die Hölle fahr'n
Another Night on Earth (© Gärtner 1998)
Black Sheep (© Gärtner 1990s)
The Chesapeake Waltz (© Walkin' Tom ??)
Chinese Whispers (© Walkin' Tom 2000)
Colum's Song (© Columban/Walkin' Tom 610/2001) The Irish missionary and saint Columban was born about 543 in Leinster.
After trying everything the world has to offer, he decided to take up the
monastic life: "His fine figure, his splendid color, and his noble manliness
made him beloved by all. And the old enemy aroused against him the lust of
lascivious maidens, especially of those whose fine figure and superficial
beauty are wont to enkindle mad desires in the minds of wretched men." In
590 he set off to Europe at the invitation of the king of Burgundy. But
after criticizing the lax morals of the court, Columban was forced to leave.
Travelling from Maguntiacum (Mainz) to Brigantia (Bregenz), Columban became
the first Irishman known to have visited Germany and the earliest recorded
song set in the River Rhine emerged from the rhythm of the speeding boat.
"Columban decided to remain, in order to spread the faith among the people,
who were Swabians. Once as he was going through this country, he discovered
that the natives were going to make a heathen offering. They had a large
cask that they called a cupa, and that held about twenty-six measures,
filled with beer and set in their midst. On Columban's asking what they
intended to do with it, they answered that they were making an offering to
their God Wodan. When he heard of this abomination, he breathed on the cask,
and lo! it broke with a crash and fell in pieces so that all the beer ran
out." What a pity! The Swiss, however, were stubborn pagans (and strong
beer drinkers) and Columban soon left unsuccessfully. He and his disciples
founded about hundred monasteries throughout Europe, known for the strictness
of their rules and their emphasis on corporal punishment. Columban died in 615
at Bobbio in Lombardy. His feast day is held on 23 November.
Cutthroat, Barley and Jones (When the Winds Refuse to Blow) (© Walkin' Tom 2003/2006)
Duck's Island Grave (© Walkin' Tom 2004) "Tragedy at sea: Shock and despair prevailed throughout west Galway
over the last number of days following the death of four fishermen
in a drowning tragedy on Friday night. The four men were Josie Connolly,
Michael ‘Sonny’ Faherty, John Dirrane and Michael Mullin. They had
been on board the Saint Oliver, which was wrecked at Duck Island, a
mile off the coast near Carna at around 10pm on Friday. The crew were
very experienced and had decided to put out to sea despite poor weather
conditions to take advantage of Spring tides. The remains of three of
the men were recovered on Saturday but at the time of writing the body
of John Dirrane has not been found. Searches are continuing along a
40-mile section of the coastline from Rossaveal to Roundstone."
(Galway Independent, 15 Sep 2004)
The tune is "??".
Farewell to Cahanclare (© Walkin' Tom/Trad 2002)
Farewell to the Moy (© Walkin' Tom/Trad 2004)
Foxhunters (© Walkin' Tom/Trad. 2002)
A Giant's Cause (© Walkin' Tom 2000)
Krähengesang (© Walkin' Tom 2003)
Making Love Outside Aras an Uachtarain (© Durcan/Walkin' Tom 2000)
Marie Johanna (Die grüne Coerder Heide) (© Walkin' Tom/Trad 2001)
The Meeting of the Waters (© Walkin' Tom 2001)
Millennium Blues (© Walkin' Tom 2000)
Ned Kelly and his Gang (© Ned Kelly/Walkin' Tom/Trad. 1880/2002)
None But Irish Need Apply (© Walkin' Tom/Trad 2002)
North Sea Shell Fisheries (© Walkin' Tom/Trad 1995)
Paddy on the Radio (© Walkin' Tom 2000)
The Sound of Whiskey (© Walkin' Tom 2002)
Stadt im Grünen (© Walkin' Tom 1980s/2002)
This is not England (© Walkin' Tom 2001)
This Singing River (© Walkin' Tom 2000)
Turnip Greens (© Walkin' Tom 2003)
Two Trains Running (© Walkin' Tom 1980s)
Wandering Mind (© Gärtner/Walkin' Tom 2000/1)
It was, of course, a miserable love, the happy love is hardly worth your while ...
Bm D
Another day, another song
G F#m
About a love that should never come
Bm D
Another night, another cloud
G F#m Bm D G F#m
There is absolutely nothing to be happy about
Another singer, another song
About something that went wrong
Another tear that was shed
Another night in a lonely bed
G A D Bm
And this is a song about a night like it never should be
G A Bm
And this is a song just for me
G A D Bm
And this is a song about a night like it never should be
G A Bm A
And this is a song just for me
Another feeling that fell to the ground
A skyscraper built upon a cloud
Another home for the broken minded
Another picture that has slided away
Another thought filling my head
Another word filling the paper
That I don't even want to think
That I never ever wanted to sing
And this is a song about a night like it never should be ...
Man könnte manchmal vermuten, ,Brehm's Tierleben' sei eine Quelle unserer
Inspiration. Früher war Irland das klassische Auswandererland, mittlerweile
werden osteuropäische Arbeitskräfte
bei der Ernte eingesetzt und Bauarbeitertrupps aus britischen Städten
eingeflogen. Dennoch - trotz oder wegen des Wirtschaftsbooms - leben 16% der
irischen Bevölkerung an der Armutsgrenze, 23% werden als "functionally
illiterate" eingestuft und es gibt (im Verhältnis) weniger Ärzte als in
Aserbaidschan.
Irland war eigentlich nicht intendiert, als dieses Lied geschrieben wurde.
Doch wie heisst es über den ,postkatholischen keltischen Tiger'
(tigris hibernicus oeconomicus): "The average
Irish city centre pub now looks like a Budapest café trying to imitate an Irish
pub. In the southern suburbs you will see more hard-faced, dyed blondes in
jeeps than in the middle-class ghettoes of South American capitals. The
schoolgirls seem to be speaking a foreign language, in which tortured Home
Counties vowels struggled to reach an accommodation with turns of phrase
derived from Australian soaps. Everywhere visible, on the one hand, is a
burgeoning underclass racked by drugs, gangsterism and poverty, and on the
other, spectacular wealth, vulgarity and indifference. Few peoples have
relied on the kindness of strangers as much as the Irish, but we are not
covering ourselves in glory in our treatment of economic immigrants. There may
be some truth in the post-colonial model of Irish society. The abused becomes
the abuser. A hysterically positivist, feel-good tone is now so characteristic
of Irish life. There is a sort of underlying belief that despite all the
glaring inequalities and inadequacies, if we keep saying we are a great wee
country, we will become one. The media overkill surrounding pop bands such
as U2 and Boyzone is not for their artistic achievements, but for their
financial ones. In the New Ireland, money is the morality, the spirituality,
the Mecca. What is clear is that no amount of new cars and designer suits will
fill the moral vacuum at the centre of Irish society. James Joyce once wrote:
We cannot change the country: let us change the subject. However, he never
came back." (Michael O'Loughlin) Yuppie-yi-oh!
G D C G F
Every time I look out, I can see a megalomanic world
G D C G
Every time I look out, I see Mother Earth choke in dirt
G D C G F
The money-mania drives people more and more insane day by day
G D C G
I wouldn't jump on that dead-end train in any way
G C F G
I'm a black sheep wouldn't join in your self-made fate no not at all
G C F G
I'm a black sheep and if you eat money you won't grow very tall
Every day a new catastrophee, the world breaks down in decay
Every day a new scandal exposed, it's hard to believe any word you say
Sometimes I feel like I can't stand this chaos for another day
Oh GOd, do make them think, these are the words I pray
I'm a black sheep ...
A D G A
I'm a black sheep
Eat no money
I'm a black__ sheep
Eat no money
I'm a black sheep wouldn't join in your self-made fate no not at all
A! D_ G . . . . . A
I'm a black sheep and if you eat money you won't grow - fat at all!
Wie so viele Iren in den vergangenen dreihundert Jahren, suchen immer noch
Menschen Zuflucht vor Hunger und Verfolgung - dieser Tage in Irland selbst.
Und wie so viele Iren zuvor treffen sie auf Rassismus und eine gleichgültige
Regierung. Es muss eine Milliarde irische Auswandererlieder geben, Zeit für
das erste Einwandererlied. Der Gelbe Tiger trifft seinen keltischen Cousin!
Das Intro beruht auf dem traditionellen Emigrantenlied ,Spancil Hill' von
Michael Considine (1850-73) sowie textlichen Anleihen aus anderen Balladen.
Der Rest ist eine Meditation darüber, was Shane MacGowan (*1957) aus dem Thema
gemacht hätte und ins Mollige gebracht, um es interessanter zu gestalten.
d C C B d
As I went out a-walking on Ballsbridge Avenue
d F C
I spied a handsome maiden, her hair a raven hue
d F C
Before that she was done with me, she had me raving, too
d C C B d
Her Emerald eyes were smiling as she whispered: "I love you"
d B
Take-aways in Chinatown
F C
Broken chopsticks handed down
d B
Old hags smoking with a frown
F C d
And drinking tea from China
d B
Fireworks and gooselike bores
F C
Fortune cookies, randy whores
d B
Fu Manchu and opium wars
F C d
And all the grieves from China
F B
A billion people botherin' me
F C
My head it needs a rest
F B
For one I'd run ten thousand li
F C d
The girl that I love best
Resting Buddhas, silken tweed
Bamboo shoots and dragon teeth
Round-eyed girls with tied-up feet
Those fairytales of China
Sun Yat-sen and Chang Kai-shek
Tiananmen and commie threat
Bloody slaughter in Tibet
Heavenly peace in China
A billion people ...
NOTES: Dr. FU MANCHU is a sinister character in Hollywood B-Movies; the
"yellow peril" incarnated in one man. - When the Chinese adopted prohibitory
laws against the opium trade, the staple British import into China, the
British retaliated with a punitive expedition, known as the OPIUM WAR
(1839-42). - 1 LI is about 500 metres. The Great Chinese Wall, the only
man-made construction visible from space, is also known as "The Wall of 10,000
Li". - SUN YAT-SEN (1866-1925) was head of state after the Qing dynasty fell
in 1911, CHANG KAI-SHEK (1887-1975) his successor from 1928-50. - TIANANMEN,
the "Square of Heavenly Peace", was the scene of the student protests in
Beijing in 1989.
Der Missionar Columban reiste zu Beginn des 7. Jahrhunderts den Rhein hinauf. Colum ist der erste, uns bekannte Ire auf deutschem Boden und das lateinische "Heia Viri", den Rhythmus des Bootes aufnehmend, das älteste Lied über den Fluß. Hier ist unsere Version.
The Irish vocal group Anuna recorded the
Latin original of Columban's song ("Heia Viri"). We rewrote the
English translation
and put it to a more contemporary tune. Do you hear the boat rowing up the river?
In silvis caesa, fluctu meat acta carina
Bicornis Rheni et pelagus perlabitur uncta.
Heia viri! nostrum reboans echo sonet heia ...
Em C D Em
Cut in the forests, swept down the two-horned Rhine
C G D
Our keel, tight-caulked, floats upon the sea
Em C D Em
The wild gusts swell and the slashing torrents fall
C G D
But human strength defeats our agony
C D G Em
Hey! Ho! Up the river we go!
C G D
Let the echoes resound with your cry!
C D G Em
Hey! Ho! Away we go!
C D Em
Let your souls, men, remembering Christ!
Bm
Cry hey-o!
To earnest effort, clouds and tempest yield
Firm faith and dauntless will is heaven sent
Endure and save yourselves for better things
0h you've suffered worse, but this shall end
Hey! Ho! Up the river we go ...
So when wildest temptation assaults our hearts
Exhausting and shaking our souls
In resolution fixed, we scorn Satan's wiles
By virtues armed, we conquer all foes
Hey! Ho! Up the river we go ...
Nunc scripsi totum pro Christo, da mihi potum!
Ein Lied über die Zeit, als "Aida" noch der Name ener Oper wa und Schiffe Segel und Masten hatten.
Aber es war eine eintönige Reise: Kein Sturm, kein Strudel, der Käpt'n stocknüchtern und kein einziger Halsabschneider an Bord.
D G D G
Let her go, let her go, row boys row
D Bm G A
No thunder strikes from up above, no maelstrom down below
D G D G
We would sail east and west, north and south also
D Bm A D
[But] When the winds refuse to blow is there no way to go
D Bm A D F#m
When the winds refuse to blow is there no way to go
Bm D
We’re praying for a rising breeze the 1st thing in the morning
G D A
To shove into the topsails and to carry us away
G D A D
From this hour of desperation to the place that we were born in
A
Far away, so far away
I’m standing on the quarter deck, now bring me that horizon
The crew’s completely sober and the captain’s not to blame
There’s not a single cutthroat bound in shackles and in iron
What a shame, aye, what a shame
The pride of the King’s Navy is a fool’s business to conquer
Then, guns and drums make hardy oarsmen at snail’s pace to go
So hundred sacks of barley went to Davy Jones’s locker
Down below, far down below
10. September 2004: Das Fischerboot "Saint Oliver" sinkt vor Duck's Island an der Küste von Galway. Die Fischer Josie Connolly, John Dirrane, Michael "Sonny" Faherty und Michael Mullin ertrinken. R.I.P.
We're travellin' around Connemara
It's sheltered and warm in the car
A strong gale force blows across Galway Bay
So we give up the cruise on that day
G D G
And we're talkin' of bytes and computers
G D C
Trademark of this post-modern age
G D C G
But no help for those men that could not have been saved
G D G
From a cold and wet Duck's Island Grave
There's two fishermen from the mainland
And another two from Inismore
Four men that refused a slow fact'ry death
For taking a deep salty breath
And we're talkin' of bytes and computers ...
Now the trawlers are back in the harbour
And we take the fish from the shelf
Four men that were drowned in the merciless sea
Four men will set off from the quay
And we're talkin' of bytes and computers ...
Josie Connolly, John Dirrane, Sonny Faherty, Michael Mullin
You won't find Cahanclare on any Ordonance Survey map, neither John
O'Pliky's watering hole. Anyway, it's real. It's a state of mind. Parental advisory: This song contains explicit language!
The skies are blue, the meadows green, or so the story goes
The gents and ladies kindly and neat from head to toe
To tell the truth, a better place you will find anywhere
There are more ass- than bog-holes round the fields of Cahanclare
D Bm G D
Now, fare thee well, stay happy, though I'm going far away
D Bm G Em
No tears, no cryin', no hugging, and no `miss you any day'
D Bm G Em
Get off me back, and fix your neck, and quickly clear your glass
D Bm G D
One last goodbye, fuck off and die, oh you can kiss me arse
Them blokes in John O'Pliky's bar, just hear 'em rant and roar
They're playing the Wild Rover, I can't stand it never more
I wish I'd race with Finn MacCool across the bracken brown
Or hunt with Michael Dwyer the English and the lasses down
Now, fare thee well, stay happy ...
There's lakes down in Killarney, there's roses in Tralee
There's rain all day in Limerick Town and blight in Skibbereen
While Patrick preached the vermin to stay out everywhere
No saints and scholars ever found their way to Cahanclare
Now, fare thee well, stay happy ...
One last farewell, fuck off to hell, oh you can kiss me arse
Unsere Version des von der Gruppe Dervish bekanntgemachten Songs "Pheigin Mo Chroi"
(Peggy, mein Herz). Zu den Hintergründen schweigt sich Tom aus.
D G D
Farewell to the Moy and the banks of Lough Cullin
D G A
Where the brown bogs of Mayo turn into bright green
D G D
O - ho - ho - ho - ho - ay - o - ha
G D A D
Farewell to the Moy and sweet Peggy mawcree
Farewell to stout fellas and comely young maidens
The yarns of Old Reilly and Mairi's strong tea
O - ho - ho - ho - ho - ay - o - ha ...
Farewell to the dancers that's tripping the daisies
Farewell Fiddlin' Willie and Piper McGee
O - ho - ho - ho - ho - ay - o - ha ...
Farewell to St. Cuimin and Father O'Donnell
Him chasing young lovers along the boreens
O - ho - ho - ho - ho - ay - o - ha ...
Farewell to the redshanks and gallant Mac William
Their bones spread all o'er the fields of Ardnaree
O - ho - ho - ho - ho - ay - o - ha ...
Farewell to brave Humbert and them froggy sportsmen
At Castlebar Races both fail and succeed
O - ho - ho - ho - ho - ay - o - ha ...
Farewell to the Moy and her salmon-stocked waters
That run from Slieve Gamph down to Killala quay
O - ho - ho - ho - ho - ay - o - ha ...
A-capella-Lied über die Fucjshagd nach der Melodie des "Foxhunter's Jig".
Der Slip-Jig is ein Teil des "Fox Chase", komponiert vom blinden Piper
Edward Keating Hyland (1780-1845).
D G
Fox went out a-walkin' Let the horns a-blowin'
D A Let the horns a-blowin'
Fox went out a-walkin' Let the horns a-blowin'
D G Hey dee diddle dee dero
Fox went out a-walkin'
D A
Hey dee diddle dee dero
Fox went out a-walkin' Let the horns a-blowin'
Fox went out a-walkin' Let the horns a-blowin'
Hounds began a-stalkin' Keep the horses goin'
Hey dee diddle dee dero Hey dee diddle dee dero
G
Hi diddle dee diddle dee
Em
Di dee diddle dee dero
D A
Hi dee diddle dee diddle dee
D A
Di dee diddle dee dero
O'er the meadows flashin' Horse and huntsman singin'
O'er the meadows flashin' Horse and huntsman singin'
O'er the meadows flashin' Horse and huntsman singin'
Hey dee diddle dee dero Hey dee diddle dee dero
O'er the meadows flashin' Horse and huntsman singin'
O'er the meadows flashin' Horse and huntsman singin'
Into the wall a-crashin' And the fox is grinnin'
Oogh... dee diddle dee dero Hey dee diddle dee dero
From Amsterdam to Newcastle
From Cairnryan to Larne
There's rainy days and moonlit nights
I slept in fields and barns
I roamed through Belfast streets and saw
The Shankill and the Falls
I climbed on Earagail Mountain
And pissed from Derry Walls
I had a drink in Antrim Glens
I met a lass and paused
Now I write these lines from Bushmills Town
It is a Giant's cause!
Wenn ich über Münster nachdenke, fällt mir einfach nichts Zeitgemäßes ein. Ich lande
immer im ,Mittelalter', im positiven wie im negativen Sinne. Da hängen z.B. die
Täuferkäfige seit fast 500 Jahren am Lambertiturm. Was wollte man uns eigentlich die ganze
Zeit damit sagen? - Spinnt man das ein bisschen weiter, fällt mir jede Menge Vergangenheit
ein, die in Münster bewältigt und entsorgt gehört. Warum ist der Hindenburgplatz immer
noch nach Hindenburg benannt? Warum führt die Universität immer noch Wilhelm II. im Namen?
- Man kann das Ganze aber natürlich auch aus einem anderen Blickwinkel sehen. Aus dem der
Krähen; die sind endlich mal wieder satt geworden.
e D
Auf dem Häusergiebel über der Stadt
e D
Darbt die Krähenschar, müde und matt,
C
Schwarzes Gefieder,
B
Nass-kalte Glieder,
e D e
Verfluchend, was sie hierhergetragen hat.
Die kahlen Felder, der knurrende Magen,
Eine Woche kaum Fressen, nur Kummer und Klagen,
Die Schar versammelt sich
Und die greise Krähe spricht:
"Seht, nun seht doch,
E B
Oh seht, unser Abendmahl, dort auf den drei Wagen,
A B
Vor dem Rathaus da lasset uns jagen!"
Der Pöbel dort unten johlt und Kinder flehn
Nach starken Schultern, damit sie was sehn;
Herren mit stolzer Miene aus stolzem Geblüte,
Damen nahe der Ohnmacht aus Geilheit und Güte;
Der Bischof spielt gähnend mit Krummstab und Ringen,
Die Maid an seinem Arm träumt von schöneren Dingen;
Denn die zwei Henker haben ihr Handwerk begriffen,
Mit glühenden Zangen in die Lenden gekniffen;
Eine ganze volle Stunde nach der Mode der Zeit,
Dann endlich rollen die Köpfe vom Scheit;
Die geschundenen Leiber in Eisenkörbe gezwängt
Und am Turm von Lamberti in die Höhe gehängt;
Ja, sie tragen die Botschaft ins Lande hinaus:
"Mit der Aufsässigkeit, nun, da ist es jetzt aus!"
Im Namen des Herrn, der am Kreuze verreckt:
22. Januar anno 1536.
e D
Auf dem Häusergiebel über der Stadt,
C B
Noch darbt die Krähenschar, bald ist sie satt.
A different kind of rebel song - by Dublin poet Paul Durcan.
D G D A D G A D D D4 D2 D
D G D A
When I was a boy, meself and me girl
D G A
Used bicycle up to the Phoenix Park
D G D A
Outside the gates we used to lie in the grass
D G A D
Making love outside Aras an Uachtarain
Often I wondered what de Valera would have thought
Inside his ivory tower
If he knew that we were lying in his green grass
Making love outside Aras an Uachtarain
D G D A
Making love ...
D G D A
Making love ...
D G D A
Making love ...
D G A D
Making love outside Aras an Uachtarain
The odd thing was, oh how odd it was
We both revered Irish patriots
We dreamed our dreams of a green flag
Making love outside Aras an Uachtarain
Making love ...
Em D C
And even had our names been Diarmaid and Grainne
We doubted de Valera's approval
For a poet's son and a judge's daughter
Making love outside Aras an Uachtarain
I can see him now in the heat-haze of the day
Blindly stalking us down
Levelling an ancient rifle, I can hear him say:
"Stop making love outside Aras an Uachtarain!"
Making love ...
,GOtt läßt auf den Feldern heilkräftige Kräuter wachsen, die ein weiser Mann
wohl verwenden soll.' (Jesus Sirach 38,4) - Was ist die deutsche Antwort auf
das illegale Whiskey-Brennen? Nun, wir haben dieses Lied von unserer ,Magical
Mystery Tour' durch Holland über die grüne Grenze geschmuggelt. Zur Belebung
einer alten Tradition: Schließlich wurde schon keltischen und germanischen
Gräbern Hanfsamen und Hanfstoffe beigegeben. Hanf war die heilige Pflanze der
Liebesgöttin Freya. Karl der Große (742-814) erließ die erste Hanf-Gesetzgebung - er
ordnete den Anbau an. Johannes Gutenberg (1397-1468) druckte die Bibel auf Hanfpapier.
Martin Luther (1483-1546) nahm einen ,absud' gegen Bronchialbeschwerden. Und unsere
Großväter rauchten unbekümmert und unbehelligt ihren ,Knaster'. Gestorben ist
an ,GOttes wohlgefälligen Duft' (Salomon) jedenfalls noch niemand - es sei
denn an dem Strick, der aus dem Hanf gedreht war.
Die grüne Coerder Heide kann überall sein. Vorschläge: Die Lüneburger Heide,
die Magdeburger Börde, ...
D G D
Gestopft in der Pfeife und als Keks gekaut
D G A
Das Blatt, das Harz, die Blüte und das Kraut
D G D
Hocken wir zusammen bis der Morgen graut
D A D
Lass den Rauch aufsteigen, Ma-rie
Halt heut nacht die Augen auf
Die grünen Jungs, die sind schlecht drauf
Sie suchen uns Emsab, Emsauf
In der grünen Coerder Heide
Gestopft in der Pfeife ...
Ein Gramm für Kai, ein Gramm für Tom
Selbst Gisela kennt kein Pardon
Katrin und Erik träumen von
Der grünen Coerder Heide
Gestopft in der Pfeife ...
Dreh dich nach links, dreh dich nach rechts
Die Sterne drehn sich auch nicht schlecht
Wem sich nichts dreht, der hat halt Pech
In der grünen Coerder Heide
Gestopft in der Pfeife ...
Highliger Hanf, was rätst du mir
Die Soko klopft schon an die Tür
Bei uns gibt's weder Schnaps noch Bier
In der grünen Coerder Heide
Doch Highliger Hanf, es ist zu spät
Der Richter nimmt uns ins Gebet
Wasser und Brot gibt's als Diät
In der grünen Coerder Heide
Gestopft in der Pfeife ...
Lass den Rauch aufsteigen - Marie Johanna
X:3
T:Hills of Connemara
C:Trad
M:C
K:D
"D"DDFF A2A2|"G"B2B2 "D"A2F2|"D"DDFF A2A2|"G"G2F2 "A"E2C2|
"D"DDFF A2A2|"G"B2B2 "D"A2FE|"D"D2d2 A2F2|"A"E4 "D"D4|
Is Billy Boy a loyalist hero or a condom brand? Boyne Waters a battlefield or a mineral water? Guinness a republican politician or a black Irish soft drink? It's up to you!
Dm F C B C Dm
The Lagan stream lies silent and Belfast Lough in peace
Dm F C B C Dm
We climb on top to McArt's Fort to take an oath of unity
F C F B F C
The harp's new strung and shall be heard again across the fields
Dm F C B C Dm
It is a giant's cause, my friends, to put down swords and shields
Our marching boots are put aside and we're heading for the bars
Where lambeg drums und fife mingle with fiddles and guitars
We sing a song 'bout Billy Boy and drink a toast to Henry Joy
For Taigs and Prods like Guinness best instead the waters of the Boyne
We get on posers and chat up girls and talk to fellas staunch and loyal
Then hit the street and dance in line round the Martyr's Memorial
We step ahead for Albert Bridge and piss against the Orange Hall
The meeting of the waters will unite the Shankill and the Falls
NOTES: At MCART'S FORT on Cave Hill overlooking Belfast, HENRY JOY McCracken
(1767-98) and Theobald Wolfe Tone (1763-98) founded the Society of United
Irishmen and led Ireland into the rebellion of 1798. Their motto: "the harp
is new strung and shall be heard". GIANT'S CAUSEWAY is a mass of volcanic
columns off the Antrim coast and major tourist spot, attributed of being built
by the giant Fionn Mac Cumhaill. The English king BILLY
(William of Orange, 1650-1702) defeated his catholic rival, James II (1633-1701),
at the River BOYNE (1690). ORANGE HALLS are the social centre of the
loyalist Orange Order, the biggest political organization among Ulster
protestants. The LAMBEG DRUM is associated with their processions (possibly
the only European traditional drum music). Reverend Ian Paisley (*1926),
the bigoted leader of the Free Presbyterian Church and Democratic Unionist
Party, at home in MARTYR'S MEMORIAL CHURCH in Ravenhill Road, denounced the
country and western style of LINE DANCING "with its sexual gestures and
touching" as "aiding and abetting fleshly lusts which war against the soul".
SHANKILL is a protestant district, the FALLS a catholic area, respectively.
The MEETING OF THE WATERS is a popular Irish song written by Thomas Moore
(1779-1852), actually the marriage of the rivers Avonmore and Avonbeg in the
Wicklow Mountains ("where the storms that we feel in this cold world should
cease, and our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace", 1807), but also
a great metaphor for the aspiring get together of PRODS ("They are not
musical; their ear is formed to the melody of fife and drum, supported by the
sound of fire-arms - by way of bass", 1870) and TAIGS ("Thus in lewd and obscene dancing, and in excess drinking, the
remainder of the day is spent as if they celebrated the
Bacchanalia rather than the memory of a pious saint or
their own penetentials", 1682).
The first thing popping up in my head on New Years morn. Strange things happen.
C CAPO II
Harry, Sid and Sally came a-riding into town
C G
They spoke of God and Jesus, oh Lord, that brings me down
C F
Cause that's for decent people and sure it's not for me
C G C
It's the blues, it's the blues that's driving me
G F G! C
It's the blues, only the blues ... that's driving me
Harry played the gospel on his red guitar
It took him from the Delta to West Chicago bars
Good Lord, oh please forgive me, but I hate that song
It's the blues, it's the blues driving me on
It's the blues, only the blues driving me on
Sid pulled out a bible, he fell down to his knees
He sent a prayer to heaven, but God is black I know she is
I sent him to the whore-house, I cater preachers well
It's the blues, it's the blues driving to hell
It's the blues, only the blues driving to hell
Sally free and easy, fine and handsome too
I took her home for coffee, that's what I supposed to do
A nail pierced through her bosom, she showed my her tattoos
It's the blues, it's the blues driving her too
Babe, it's the blues, only the blues driving her too
Harry said to Sally: This guy's no good to you
He sang another gospel, I knocked him off his shoes
The ambulance was coming, I hit him once again
It's the blues, it's the blues driving insane
It's the blues, only the blues driving insane
Now, Harry, Sid and Sally left for another town
Still running round these streets of shame, I won't let bring me down
For Coca cola, cornflakes, this might be good for you
But whiskey, girls and gambling that's what I prefer to do
And it's the blues, only the blues driving me blue
Oh, it's the blues, that damn ol' blues driving me blue
Em G D Em D
Come all you wild and wicked boys that ramble free of care
Em G D Em D Em
That ride out on a moonlit night with your horse, your gun and snare
G D Em D
Attention pay to what I say, and value if you can
Em G D Em D Em
I'll tell you now the story of Ned Kelly and his Gang
My name is Edward Kelly and I grew a wanted man
Since Old Red sailed from Erin's Isle to plough Van Diemen's land
Always on trial, always beguiled, so I shot the traps and ran
And that's the cruel reason that made the Kelly Gang
There was Joe Byrne and Stevie Hart and my young brother Dan
We stole the squatters' horses and robbed Euroa bank
We did revoke the tyrant's yoke, and lads and lasses sang
Of Harry Power, Jack Donahue and the brave Ned Kelly Gang
Oft times when I did slumber, I had a pleasant dream
My sweetheart sitting near me, down by a purling stream
To Greta fair I did repair, my Mary by the hand
But woken broken-hearted, I cursed the Kelly Gang
For two long years the Kelly Gang ran on a wild career
Till one day round Glenrowan town the troopers standing queer
`Surrender now, lay your guns down, can't you see there's one to ten'
And that was how them cowards caught Ned Kelly and his Gang
So all you wild and wicked boys wherever you may be
In armour free or convict chains, come listen unto me
From Melbourne Gaol I bid farewell, tomorrow I'll be hanged
Now say a prayer and don't forget Ned Kelly and his Gang
G C D
I am a decent Irishman from the town of Ballyfad
G C G D
I want a situation, and I want it mighty bad
G C D
I've seen employment advertised, `Tis the thing for me,' says I
G C G D G
But the dirty spalpeen ended with: `No Irish need apply!'
G C D
Well once they'd think it a misfortune to be christened Pat or Dan
G C G D G
But today it is an honour to be born an Irishman
Now these days in Dublin City, the Celtic Tiger roams the street
The rich and rotten set the tune, and the poor still miss the beat
And `A Hundred Thousand Welcomes' is the first Irish thing in sight
Yet the signs in Dan O'Connell Street: `None but Irish need apply!'
Now this song is for Dave Richardson and all the names I do not know
Stabbed with a dagger in the back or slighted high and low
That want an occupation or just a place to cry
But every dirty bugger says: `No nigger need apply'
Now always do remember that you broke almost every law
To send your sons and daughters all upon a foreign shore
So keep the doors wide open to the stranger passing by
And never dare to tell me: `None but Irish need apply'
Well once they'd think it a misfortune to be christened Pat or Dan
Thank God today it is an honour to be born an Irishman
But when I think about the fortune to be christened Pat or Dan
Sometimes I wish that I was black and no bigot Irishman
Dedicated to Charles Cunningham Boycott (1832-97).
G Em D G
'Twas in nineteen hundred and ninety five
C Am D
Of April in the very last days
G Em C Am
So we waved farewell and we anchor weighed
G Em D G Em
For Brent Oil Field sailed away, brave boys
G Em D G
For Brent Oil Field sailed away
The lookout in the crosstrees he stood
With a spyglass in his hand
"There's the Shell, there's the Shell,
There's the Shell rig" he cried
"And she rocks at every span, brave boys
And she rocks at every span"
The skipper he stood on the quarter deck
Oh, a fine little man was he
"Overhaul, overhaul, let your davit-tackles fall
For to launch your boats to sea, brave boys
For to launch your boats to sea"
We climbed on board and we took the rig
And we shed such a plenty of a tear
As we hoist' our flag on the top of the mast
You could hear a thousand cheers, brave boys
You could hear a thousand cheers
The dumping of that bloody rig
It grieves my heart full sore
But the dumping of that damn toxic shit
Now it grieves me ten times more, brave boys
Now it grieves me ten times more
Oh, the North Sea is a dreadful place
A place that bears no green
Where there's Shell & Co, but no whale fishes blow
And the seabirds's seldom seen, brave boys
And the seabirds's seldom seen
Tune: Greenland Whale Fisheries
Paddy Fahy (*1926), Fiddler aus dem County Galway, gilt als Komponist von
rund 60 Tunes - mit den einfallsreichen Titeln Paddy Fahy's #1, Paddy
Fahy's #2, usw. "They're all called Paddy Fahy's so you could know one from
the other." (J. Burke) Wenn die gesamte Sippe vor dem Kamin saß, schloss der
gute Paddy gerne mal ein Mikrophon an das Familienradio an: "Oh, Jesus, that's
Fahy! He's playing on the radio again tonight!"
D C
I hear it in the morning
G A
When the sun shines bright
D C
I hear it in the evening
G A
When dusk turns into night
There's sweet charming music
Ringing in the sky
The world comes to your door
On the radio tonight
D C G A D C G A
On the radio, on the radio, on the radio, tonight
On the radio, on the radio, on the radio, tonight
Paddy's up on the 2nd floor
With his fiddle and his mike
Down by the fire we sit and smile
"He's on the radio tonight"
Bm G A Bm G A Bm G A Bm G A
I hear it in the morning
When the sun shines bright
I hear it in the evening
It's on the radio tonight
On the radio ... Bm G F Em D
... on the radio, tonight
X:8
T:Paddy on the Radio
C:Tom Walkin' Tom
M:4/4
L:1/8
Q:90
K:D major
P: Chorus (Version #1)
[AF][AF] | "D"[A6F6] [FD][EG-] | "C"-[E4G4] z2[AF][AF] | "G"[A6F6G6] [DG][EA-] | "A"-[E4A4] z2[AF][AF] |
w: On the ra-di-o,_ on the ra-di-o,_ on the
"D"[A6F6] G[FA-] | "C"-[E4G4] z2[DA][DG-] | "G"-[D8G8] | "A"z8 ||
w: ra-di-o_ to-night._
P: Chorus (Version #2)
[Ad][Ad] | "D"[A6d6] [Fd][E=c-] | "C"-[E4=c4] z2[Ad][Ad] | "G"[A6d6] [Dd][E^c-] | "A"-[E4^c4] z2 [Ad][Ad] |
w: On the ra-di-o,_ on the ra-di-o,_ on the
"D"[A6d6] [G^c][F=c-] | "C"-[E4B4] z2[DB][DB-] | "G"-[D8B8] | "A"z8 ||
w: ra-di-o_ to-night._
P: Chorus (One-Part)
AA | "D"A6 DE | "C"-E4 z2AA | "G"A6 DE | "A"-E4 z2AA |
w: On the ra-di-o,_ on the ra-di-o,_ on the
"D"A6 GF | "C"-E4 z2DD | "G"-D8 | "A"z8 ||
w: ra-di-o_ to-night._
%
P:Ending (voice, fiddle)
%
V:V1 clef=treble
V:V2 clef=treble
%
[V:V1] c2 | B8 | -B8 | z8 | z8 |]
w: To-night.
[V:V2] z2 | "Bm"c8 | "G"B8 | "F Em"A8 | "D"-A8 |]
Nimm's leicht und mach ein Lied daraus!
D
Rain's pouring down
A
Cars rushing by
Bm
The whores are willin'
G
I feel like cryin'
I strike some chords
Can't stop the blues
Try to sing a love song
But it never goes
Em
"Give us a tune, lad"
G
Oh I don't hear
D A G [A]
The sound of whiskey in my ear
I don't mind the future
I don't regret the past
Though everything I'm doing
Puts me to the test
I always will remember
Your sparkling eyes
But I'm heading off now
For a different sky
I never said "I love you"
Oh I love you dear
The sound of whiskey in my ear
A Bm G D A Bm G D A G
The rain's still pouring down
The whores snuggle off to bed
I just can't get you
Out of my head
I strike another chord
To ease the pain
Try to write a love song
But it's all in vain
Whatever keeps me going
Whatever brings me here
The sound of whiskey in my ear
How hard I'm tryin'
It won't disappear
The sound of whiskey in my ear
G
Ein Ort aus Kindertagen
Bm
Die Ampeln rot, das Rathaus blau
Em
Kühle Blicke, dumme Fragen
C
Ach, ich weiss auch nicht genau
Woanders hat's auch nicht so viel gegeben
Der ganze Märchenwald blieb stumm
Wir könn' nix tun als Leben
Und das kriegen wir schon rum
Bm
Ne Stadt im Grünen
Em
Ne Stadt aus Stahl
C D
Ne Stadt, die schon immer zweite Wahl
G D
Doch ich bin wieder hier
C D
Endlich wieder hier
G D
Vielleicht nur auf ein Bier
C D
Doch ich bin wieder hier
Zwischen Harz und Heide
Nicht mehr Berg und noch nicht offnes Land
Bietest du ne neue Bleibe
Für halb Schlesien, Buchen- und Sudentenland
Du bist so jung, gestrickt mit heisser Nadel
Ne Nazi-Missgeburt, ein Wirtschaftswunderkind
Wir drehn uns ständig um den eigenen Nabel
Die mittendrin, doch nicht im Zentrum sind
Ne Stadt im Grünen ...
Und ich bin wieder hier ...
Hier ist nichts los, nicht jetzt, nicht später
Die alten Schlote rauchen kaum noch mehr
Die Zukunft strahlt eintausend Meter
Unter Feld und unter Straßenteer
Mensch, Alter, wo ist das alles nur geblieben?
Die schönen Worte, arglose Ignoranz
Die heissen Schwüre, die erste Liebe
Die Glut, die mal durch unsre Adern rann
Ne Stadt im Grünen, ne Stadt aus Stahl
Von mir aus "meine" Stadt
Das ist doch alles scheiss egal
Denn ich bin wieder hier ...
This is not an Irish song, no, not at all. But about the stupidity
of nationalism. Britain populated and conquered by Celts,
Anglo-Saxons, Vikings, and Normans, and ruled by Scottish, Welsh, Dutch,
and German kings. So what is England anyway?
G C
This is not England, no, it is not
G D
This is not England, it never was
G C
This is not England, it's always been
Em Am D
A rose whose thorns cut through your skin
Em
When the Saxons swept the land
C
Like we did before
Em
They burned our barns and houses
D
Like we took the cairns and forts
They pushed us into obscurity
Left us no place to roam
We settled bogs and mountains
And made a castle of our home
Am G
Then the Vikings seized the coast
Em D
And William conquered all
Am G
He made his way across the sea
Em D C D
Led by a scaring fireball
This is not England ...
They put a Scotsman on a throne
They robbed before from Scotland's crags
A German brought fresh blood
Which almost drove us mad
We're forced to sail the seven seas
For glory, God - and spice
A pirate and a virgin queen
We lived on promises and lies
We bled on every battlefield
At sea and down the mine
To build a nation, proud and strong
They had to break our spine
This is not England ...
I learned we shaped democracy
But at the same time chased her to death
Another Cromwell talks of shite
And puts the crown on his roundhead
We ruled the waves in days of yore
And we're told a thousand times:
The English rose withered away
Before she stood in her full prime
This is not England ...
G C
This is not England ....
Em Am D
What is England anyway?
|: Em Am G D Em Am G D Am G Em D Am G Em D :| Em
Na na na ...
NOTES: The ANGLO-SAXON tribes invaded Britain from the 5th century onwards
and overthrew the Celtic people (who themselves had overthrown the native
population before). WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR (1027-87), duke of Normandy, won
the English throne in 1066. Halley's comet, depicted at the Bayeux Tapestry,
appeared at the Battle of Hastings. When Henry III (1207-72) married Eleanor
of Provence, the golden ROSE of Provence became England's floral symbol.
Francis Drake (1540-96) circumnavigated the world, when not practising
PIRACY in the Caribbean Sea for his VIRGIN QUEEN Elizabeth I (1533-1603).
She had neither husband nor children, but ... Anyway, SCOTSMAN James Stewart
(1566-1625) succeeded her - crowned on the ancient Scottish
Coronation Stone carried off by the English to Westminster Abbey in 1296 -,
as did the GERMANS from Hanover. George III (1738-1820) is widely remembered
for two things: losing the American colonies and going mad. OLIVER CROMWELL
(1599-1658), leader of the Puritan ROUNDHEADS, chopped off his king's head
and ruled the country as Lord Protector. BRITANNIA RULE THE WAVES, a poem by
James Thomson (1700-48) put to music by Thomas Augustine Arne (around 1740),
is the British imperialistic anthem.
Die Überbrückung des East Pascagoula River in Mississippi
ist bekannt als ,Singing River'. An stillen Sommerabenden kann man rätselhafte
Töne vernehmen, die dem Gewässer entsteigen. Die Legende berichtet:
"The Pascagoula Indians, a peaceful, gentle tribe, were beset upon by the
neighboring Biloxi Indians, a fierce, warlike tribe. Having lost several
battles with the Biloxi in which many of the Pascagoula warriors were killed,
and with the shouts of their victorious foes ringing in their ears, the
Pascagoulas resolved to die rather than be enslaved. All the men, women and
children clasped their hands together and marched into the serene waters of
the Singing River chanting their death song, perishing beneath the waves.
The eternal death song of the Pascagoula Indians can be heard by all those who
care to listen upon the banks of Singing River."
Em G C Em G C
In quiet nights when the winds stand still
The river lilts a lonesome reel
I hear the call down from the swirling stream
Of love and hope and plans and dreams
D C Bm Bm(2) D C Bm
When the river wakes up, wakes up from winter's sleep
A haunting tune comes from the deep
The waters swinging downhill through the glen
Till the waves are frozen tears again
D C Bm Bm(2)
Oh, tears again
D C Bm C D
Yet again
Em G C Em G C
O - ho - ho, this singing river, u - hu - hu
Em G C Em G C
O - ho - ho, this singing river_____________
This singing river is rolling in our veins
Our exiled hearts locked up in chains
We grip our hands and we march to and fro
We chant our song and then we go
Then we go
Ah, here we go
O - ho - ho, this singing river ...
I'm born in Indiana, the home of rain and snow
D G A D
I'm dyin' for San Antonio, the place I wanna go
D G
Way down the Mississippi on the road to New Orleans
D G A D
Twas three po' souls by the river bank a-scratchin' on the turnip greens
G A D
Scratchin' on the turnip greens
White man goes to the foundry, black man goes to the fields,
Red man stays in the bed all day but gets under the wheels
Three souls in the kitchen, longing for the cake and cream
Three po' souls by the kitchen-sink a-scratchin' on the turnip greens
A G D
Oh I'm a fool on the turnip greens
Ain't got no school on the turnip greens
Can't make it cool on the turnip greens
G A D
I'm a-scratchin' on the turnip greens
I met a little gipsy in a fortune-telling place
She held my hand and she read my mind, then she slapped me in my face
I know I ain't good looking, my breath's like nicotine
But po' shape takes you thru this world scratchin' on the turnip greens
Gonna call up to Lord Jesus to send me an angel down
If you haven't got an angel nigh, send me a high-heeled brown
It ain't a heavy brain, Lord, it ain't a beauty queen
It's the way she does the nasty swing a-scratchin' on the turnip greens
Now black man wails the holler, red man pipes the booze
White man wish he was in Dixie, black man got the blues,
Three souls gone to glory, a most peculiar scene
Three souls and Lord Jesus a-scratchin' on the turnip greens
G C G
There's two trains runnin', two trains runnin' through my mind
C G
There's two trains runnin', two trains runnin' through my mind
D C G C G C D
One's the midnight special, one's the morning line
There's two hearts beatin', two hearts beatin' in my side
One's sad and lonely, the other's rude and wild
Sometimes I feel the whole world's one big prison yard
Some of us are prisoners, the rest of us are guards
There's two trains running ...
F G Dm C Dm C Am
F G Dm C Dm C Em FG
Am
I'm wandering up the country
Dm
I'm walking down the road
Em
I'm heading for unbeaten tracks
F G
Where'er the wild winds blow
Am
Who's counting all the footsteps
Dm
Who's counting all the miles
Em
Who's counting all the stars
F G
When no walls hide them from my eyes
Dm C
I hang around the boulevards
Em F
Scarred for life, no handsome pet
Dm C
But he who never starved or froze
Em F G
Chained to his master's door instead
Am
I am just a rover
G
Who calls on every street
Em F G C
While other men just choose one
G
Till I'm wrapped in my last sheets
Am
Hey girl, excuse me
G
I've got a wandering mind
Em F G C
A restless soul and tireless feet
Am Em Am G
Impossible to bind, impossible to bind
I threw the shovel to the ground
And I never shed a tear
But I won't forget men's sweat and blood
Washed away with pints of beer
I heard the guns a-roaring
And I smelled the battle smoke
Oh, I shun the marching fife and drum
For to dance with peaceful folk
I rise above the barricades
And I let fly my soul
But when I fall for you I know
The other day I have to go
I am just a rover ...
Am C F G Am C F G
And when I come to rest
The silence makes me scream
I lie awake all night
Still I dream a thousand dreams
I am just a rover ...