>> Female voice: From the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. ^M00:00:06 >> Peggy Bulger: Welcome to Homegrown Concert from the American Folklife Center, I'm Peggy Bulger -- [break in audio] -- of the center, and it's my privilege to welcome you to a wonderful concert today -- [break in audio] -- with Tommy Sands and his daughter, Moya, and his son, Fionan. In the spring of 2007, many of you may remember this, and you may have been here for this, Northern Irish scholars and artists gathered here at the Library of Congress and other venues around Washington D.C. to present and promote Northern Irish arts and culture through a program that we called Rediscover Northern Ireland. And this concert today is actually a continuation of last year's historic collaboration between the Library of Congress and Northern Ireland, which highlighted and celebrated the area's unique geographical, cultural and musical landscapes. This year, through the generosity of our co-sponsor, which is the Arts Council of Northern Ireland, we'll be able to continue and build this collaboration with a series of three concerts and lectures by respected researchers and performers. So in addition I -- you know get out your calendars, because in addition to today's concert, we're going to be featuring presentations on folk songs and traditional music by two Northern Irelanders: Len Graham will be presenting on November 6th, and Maurice Leyden on December 4th. And so you can visit our Web site, the American Folklife Center Web site, for more details. And that's just www.loc.gov/folklife, one word. But before handing over the proceedings to folklorist Nancy Gross, I'd like to acknowledge, and I think we have in the audience a special guest, Norman Houston director of the Northern Ireland Bureau, and there he is. Thank you for taking the time to come. ^m00:02:11 [ Applause ] ^M00:02:17 >> So without further ado, because we want to get to the music, I want to introduce Nancy Gross, who is a folklife specialist on our staff at the American Folklife Center. Nancy? ^M00:02:29 [applause] >> Nancy Gross: Thank you, Peggy. ^M00:02:33 Good afternoon, welcome to the historic Coolidge auditorium. Today we're honored and delighted to present the international celebrated singer, songwriter, storyteller, and social activist, Tommy Sands. Tommy was raised with traditional music in Rostrevor, in County Down. As a member of the influential Sands family folk ensemble, he introduced international audiences to Irish music during the 1960s, and laid the ground work for its current worldwide popularity. He's the author of such classic songs as "There are Roses," "Daughters and Sons," and "Come on Home to the County Down." And he's see his works translated into many languages. Recorded by such artists as Kat-- Joan Baez, Kathy Mattea, and Dolores Keen. Over the decades his artistic integrity, engaging style, and commitment to peace and dialogue between people of different backgrounds has contributed to his worldwide renown -- In his recent autobiography, The “Songman: A Journey Through Irish Music,” Sands writes eloquently about growing up on a small farm in foothills of the Mourne Mountains with his parents and six siblings and, as he says, with a fiddle in one ear and an orange drum in the other. His family was immersed in folk music. His father played fiddle, his mother played accordion. Catholics and Protestants alike from the neighboring farms gathered in his family's kitchen for music, dancing, and a bit of craic. After starting on the fiddle he became more interested in singing and eventually in song writing. For Sands, song writing was a direct outgrowth of traditional music and a continuation of traditional creativity. >> Today, Sands continues to tour extensively as a soloist, as well as with his son, Fionan, and his daughter Moya, who are both fine musicians in their own right. He remains involved with numerous socially progressive causes, and is increasingly involved with educational programs. In fact his soon-to-be-released recording, “Let The Circle Be Wide,” is inspired by his work for children. We're honored and delighted to have Tommy here with his son and daughter, and I'd ask you to please make them welcome. ^M00:04:36 [ Applause ] ^M00:04:51 >> Tommy Sands: Thank you very much, indeed. ^M00:04:53 [music] ^M00:04:56 Let the circle be wide 'round the fireside. I will soon make room for you. Let your heart have no fear For there's no strangers here Just friends you never knew. Shake the hand of the man from the far distant land. Meet him and treat him well. And that young girl so fair With the wind in her hair, She's got a story to tell. So let the circle be wide 'round the fireside And we soon make room for you. Let your heart have no fear For there's no strangers here Just friends that you never knew. ^M00:05:54 >> Moya Sands: We will travel along On the wings of the song With a mind that is open and free. If we close our eyes to the other side We’re just half of what we could be. So let the circle be wide 'round the fireside And we'll soon make room for you. Let your heart have no fear For there's no strangers here Just friends that you never knew. So let the circle be wide 'round the fireside And we soon make room for you. Let your heart have no fear For there's no strangers here Just friends that you never knew. ^M00:06:32 >> Tommy Sands: There are songs to be sung, There are rafters to be rung, There is reason to rosin your bow. There are stories of old And there's new ones to be told For to carry away when you go. So let the circle be wide 'round the fireside And we'll soon make room for you. Let your heart have no – fear! For there's no strangers here Just friends that you never knew. So we pass the bottle round And we drink another round But our friendship will always remain. For how can you tell, When we say our farewells, When will we all meet again -- here in the Library of Congress? ^M00:07:30 [laughter] So let the circle be wide 'round the fireside And we'll soon make room for you. Let your heart have no fear For there's no strangers here Just friends that you never knew. ^M00:07:58 [ Applause ] ^M00:08:02 Whoo! [music] ^M00:10:10 [applause] ^M00:10:20 >> Thank you very much, indeed. Just like to say I'm delighted -- we are delighted to be here in the Library of Congress. I -- we come from the North of Ireland. That's the British part, but it's a great part, the north part in “stroke” Northern Ireland. And -- well, I grew up near -- well, I really come from near places. I usually tell people I come from near places. I come from near -- three miles from Mayobridge, six miles from Newry, about fourteen miles from Bambridge, 40 miles from Belfast, and 60 miles from Dublin. I say I come from near places because I don't think the down lands where I grew up would be known at all to anybody anywhere. But we lived at the crossroads and for us, of course, it was the center of the world. I grew up in a small farm house. We didn't have any electricity or -- we had no television so I suppose we made our own entertainment. We didn't have any running water, either. The only running water we had was running to the well with a bucket for it. [laughter] ^M00:11:43 Or, as my mother used to say: “Take two, it might balance you.” [laughter] ^M00:11:49 >> But my first memory of growing up in the world of music was, I suppose, having to go to bed early as a child, but hearing the sound of my father's fiddle leaking underneath the bedroom door accompanied by the flicker of an oil lamp. I should have been sleeping, I suppose, but it seemed to be more sinful to be asleep than to be awake when the neighbor man would come in with the black bottles squeaking in the great pockets of their great coats, and the fiddles under their arms. And the music being played in my mother's kitchen was, well, reels and jigs, hornpipes, and there was as much of a Scottish snap in them as there was an Irish lilt, because musicians came from both sides of what we call “The Divide,” people from the Protestant community as well as the Catholic community. So I was very aware early on that the music belonged to us all, regardless of where we came from, because whenever my father started to tune the fiddle or my mother would start tuning the accordion, all the toes would tap to the same rhythm, regardless of their political or religious persuasions. And I saw the value of music I suppose, without realizing it. >> A lot of the songs sung were songs about immigration, because a lot of people had left home to come to America, and there's one song, I was just trying to remember it inside there -- that my father used to sing. ^M00:13:41 As I went out a walkin' Down by the riverside I heard a maid complaining As the tears rolled from her eyes. I heard a maid complaining, These were words she said “Won’t you stay at home and do not roam From your lovely Irish maid? When you go to America And pretty girls you’ll find If they are very handsome And pleasing to your mind, It's then that you forget the promises And vows to me you made. So stay at home and do not roam From your lovely Irish maid.” “When I go to America And pretty girls I find. If they are very handsome It's of you they’ ll me remind. And do not fret that I'll forget Or ever prove untrue. But there's not a weekend in the year But a letter I'll send you. There is not a day while I'm away As I wander through the glade But will make me think of the days I spent [speaks] With my lovely Irish maid.” ^M00:15:41 [applause] ^M00:15:50 >> Sometimes the old men, they were singing -- and the old women, too. And they come to the last line of a song and they wouldn't sing it. They would say it, because, I suppose people believed that music or song was something that brought you into another world, and you had to be brought back easily – in an easy way that wouldn't be a big shock at the end of the song, so the last line's often said rather than sung. We used to work in the farm. We used to milk a couple of cows before we go to school in the morning. And we found that when we were milking the cows, we would milk -- if we were singing a fast song, we'd milk faster. And my father liked that, and he used to say that the cow would take back the milk if you milk too slow. [laughter] ^M00:16:55 And he used to put his head in 'round the barn door in the mornings, usually in the dark in the winter time. Maybe there'd be a candle. Usually -- there were five of us in the family, and the older ones would be milking. The younger ones would be holding the candle and holding the cow's tail at the same time, because she would switch and she'd hit you in the face. But my father put his head around the door and he said, "Right, no slow songs this morning, boys." And he used to -- he taught us songs like “The Praties are Dug and the Frost is all Over." And this is an old one he used to sing. ^M00:17:35 [music] Good luck to all here, now barring the cat That sits in the corner a-smelling a rat. Ah, wheesht you philandering girls and behave And saving you presence, I'll chant you a stave. I come from the land where the praties grow big And the girls neat and handy can dance a fine jig, And the boys they would charm your heart for to see, Those rollicking boys around Tandragee. ^M00:17:59 So here's to the boys who are happy and gay A singing and dancing and tearing away Rollicksome, frollicksome, frisky and free We're the rollicking boys around Tandragee. ^M00:18:09 [ Music ] ^M00:18:16 Now the old jaunting car is an wonderful joult, And Derry's the place that is famed for the hoult. Among the green bushes that grow in Tyrone And the County Fermanagh for muscle and bone. For feasting and blarney and fun at the fair There’s none can compare with the Rakes of Kildare. Green Erin's my country, the gem of the sea But the gem of all Ireland is Tandragee. ^M00:18:36 So here's to the boys who are happy and gay A singing and dancing and tearing away Rollicksome, frollicksome, frisky and free We're the rollicking boys around Tandragee ^M00:18:52 O where is the man, either Christian or Turk, Could equal the bold Robert Emmett or Burke? O where is the lawyer could speak up like Dan? There’s devil another bad luck to the one. And where is the singer can sing like Tom Moore Whose melodies charm all dull care from your door? But we'll beat them all yet boys and that you will see For we're raring fine fellows around Tandragee. ^M00:19:12 Here's to the boys who are happy and gay A singing and dancing and tearing away Rollicksome, frollicksome, frisky and free We're the rollicking boys around Tandragee. Here's to the boys who are happy and gay A singing and dancing and tearing away Rollicksome, frollicksome, frisky and free We're the rollicking boys around Tandragee ^M00:19:41 [ Music ] ^M00:19:50 [applause]^M00:20:02 >> Thank you very much, indeed. I suppose when people are sitting down around the fire, and a long night had to be passed, and there's many's -- as many's a long winter's night to be passed, and we'd sing songs and tell stories. And it was very important to have something to do. When it came your turn you had to do something. You had to tell a story or sing a song, or do something to contribute to the shortening of the winter. And they -- sometimes if we had no story to tell my father would send us out for sticks. And it's very dark outside to get sticks for the fire. It's very dark outside and you're liable to meet something or see something. Maybe the wind blowing a bush looks like an old man laughing at you in nighttime. So when you come back in you had a story to tell. So it is well worth going outside. But this is a story that -- it's really a children's story, but we all were children at one time or another. Or if we weren't children we went to school with them at least. [laughter] But I -- It's -- I should tell you as well, maybe. It might be a little bit scary. So if you happen to be of nervous disposition, maybe you should hold onto the person beside you until the arm or, ah! hold on to them anyway. Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a wee boy called Paddy McGee. He was a very good wee boy in every way. He could tie his own boots. He would get up in the morning when he was told, which was unusual at the time. Go to bed at night, with is even more unusual. But he had one problem: He had no story to tell. And when people were sitting down around the fire on a cold winter's night and everybody's doing something to pass the time, whenever it came to Paddy McGee's turn to tell a story -- big red face, down went his head – no story to tell. Well it wasn't too long till the word got out about Paddy McGee. And anytime he walked into a house, people would stand up and walk out, because if you don't say anything you're not going to be asked to repeat it too often. ^M00:22:32 Well the wee boy was so sad and lonely because nobody would talk to him that one morning he got up out of bed, put a small bundle on his back, and headed off down the road on his own, the poor wee fella. Well on he walked and on he walked, and he didn't realize it was getting late, because he kept his head down in case he would meet someone who'd recognize him as the boy with no story. He didn't realize that it was getting dark, and the nighttime was beginning to overtake him on the road. And the wind began to blow. ^M00:23:07 [Guitar music] ^M00:23:12 And every bush along the side of the road is going back and forward like an old man's face, laughing at him in the nighttime. He's very scared, he's very sorry that he ever left home. He didn't know what to do. He's getting very sleepy. ^M00:23:29 Suddenly in the distance he thought he saw a light. [twang] He started walking towards the light, and then in the middle of the darkness was this big house and a big old door. The wee bit dreaded knocking at the door, but what could he do? He knocked on the door. [knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock] ^M00:23:51 And he could hear these big steps [thump, thump, thump] coming from somewhere in the back of the house, and slowly the big door opened. [Twang] The wee boy looked up and he saw this very strange looking man standing at the door. He's very scared. And he says to the big man, he says, "Could I stay here for the night, please?" ^M00:24:24 [Scary voice] "Ha! Ha! Ha! Could you stay here for the night? ^M00:24:30 Paddy McGee, the boy with no story. Why you come in and lie down in the corner and you’re watching the children all around and you’d sooner have a story to tell but you just watch television. What’s wrong with you?" Well the wee boy was so tired, as soon as his head touched the pillow his eyes closed and his eyes hadn’t just closed until he heard this thump that shook the pine wood door. And what walked in but three men carrying a coffin. And one of them shouts "Get out of there, Paddy McGee, you're lying there like a turnip in the ground. There’s only the three of us to carry this coffin. Anybody knows you need four men to carry a coffin and it’s all slanted at the front left hand corner! Who should it be but Paddy McGee?” ^M00:25:05 They pulled the wee lad out of the bed by the hair of the head. So they're holding the coffin, march out through the door, up the road through a guttery gap out over fields and ditches and bogs marching through the night. The legs had gone out on the poor wee boy but he was at the front left hand corner and he couldn't get away and on they walked. And eventually they came to a disused graveyard. And the wee boy had never been there before in his life. The life was scared out of him. He turned to the man and he says, "Can I go home, please?" [Scary voice] "Ha! Ha! Ha! Can you go home? Who do you think’s gonna open the grave? Who should it be but Paddy McGee?" Well, Paddy McGee didn't like that too much, but what could he do? They give him the spade and he started to dig and he dug and he dug and he dug. And he dug. And he dug. And he dug. And he dug. ^M00:26:02 [pause] ^M00:26:11 And he dug. [laughter] And eventually he got the grave opened, and he stood back. And the tears coming out through his nostrils and they -- the sweat coming out through the holes in his boots. At least he hoped it was sweat. And he turned to the man and says he, [scared voice] "Can I go home now, please?" ^M00:26:37 "He, he, he, he, he, he! Can you go home now? Who do you think's going to open the coffin? Who should it be put Paddy McGee?" Well Paddy McGee didn't like that too much, but what could he do? He started loosening at the screws, and put his wee fingers underneath the lid of the coffin. Slowly he lifted the lid of the coffin. [Twang] And what he saw in there he'll never forget for the rest of his life. Will I stop, is it getting too scary? [laughter] There are tough people here in Washington. [laughter] Even though the coffin was very heavy when they were carrying it through the fields. When he looked in he discovered the coffin was empty. [Twang] "Can I go home now, please?" ^M00:27:39 "Ha! Ha! Ha! Can you go home now of all times? Who do you think is going to get into the coffin? Who should it be but Paddy McGee?" ^M00:27:50 Well that's enough for Paddy McGee. He ran between one of the three men's legs and down through the fields as fast as the wind with the three men come running fast. “Come back here Paddy McGee! What sort of children are there now a days that won't get into a coffin?” And on he ran with the three men getting closer and closer. Just then he tripped and he fell and reached out and felt something hairy! And what was it but a donkey that had been lying asleep in the field. Up gets the donkey with Paddy McGee on it’s back and ran away through the fields as fast as the wind and the three men coming round the back! “Paddy McGee, we’ll get that donkey and we’ll soon get you!” On he ran and on he ran and the three men they were closer and closer, and just then the donkey stopped dead. And the wee boy went up over his ears and his nose and his mouth and Paddy fell to his knees himself. And the men came, “Now we have you! Now we have you!” Then he saw a house: "Let me in, quick please!" ^M00:28:35 Who came to the door? But the very same man that let him in in the first place. "Well, Paddy McGee, the boy with no story. Well, he has a story now." And from that day on, there wasn't a house in Ireland who wouldn't take him in, was happy to see him coming and sad to see him going away because he has the best story in Ireland, and now you have a story too and you won't have to be roaming about through graveyards in the middle of the night. ^M00:29:10 [laughter] People who attended, my story's ended. Put on the kettle; make the tea, and if they weren't happy, that you and I may. That's the story. ^M00:29:23 [applause] ^M00:29:32 >> Thank you very much. I suppose lots of songs were being sung are about real things and maybe some years before I came into the world, but I felt it was important to write about what is happening, because music is very important it can -- I suppose in Ireland we have three different types of music: Music dance, music lullaby or love making, and music of lamentation, and the sad songs were very important. There was an old tradition in Ireland that went back many years. Course it happened in Scotland, too. Many -- all the places. During sad occasion, maybe someone died and there was a wake. Or maybe someone was getting married and his wedding. Sometimes that was sad, too. [laughter] -- because the young girl's leaving the family and going away. But during these times crying women would be sent for. They were called keeners. And their job was to come to the house of sadness, start to cry, get everybody in the house crying, and then move on to the next house with a good job well done. [laughter] But their role in the community was very important because it helped people to cry. I remember as a child going around with my father, and he would play -- he would go to a wake and there'd be -- dead person lying in the corner, and there would be hardened men with weathered, leather faces sitting around and thorns in their fingers from tying corn in the fields. Slowly a tear will come to their eye when my father played the fiddle, and he would play a lament. And I realized very early on that the sad songs were never meant to make you sad, there were meant to take the sadness out of you, to leave enough space for the dance of life to come back. I suppose nowadays psychologists do this sort of work, but traditionally it belonged to musicians and keeners. We'd like to play you a lament on the whistles. And if there's any sadness inside you or if there are any worries in your mind, if you close your eyes and listen to some music it will take it all out and leave enough space for the dancing. ^M00:32:06 [music]^M00:34:02 [applause] ^M00:34:12 >> Thank you. I grew up on a small farm, and the people who'd come into our house at night were singing songs and telling stories. They came from -- I was going to say they came from all religions, but that's not really true. It's just two. [laughter] Maybe one if you wanted to look at it more closely. [laughter] But -- they were drawn to our house, I suppose, because it was kind of an open house. But I remember one night in the summer, when the roses were out among the hedges on the Ryan Road where we lived. And we could hear explosions going off just six miles away in the town Newry. And we could hear lambeg drums being played particularly loudly just a few fields away. Someone said no matter how close the troubles get to us here it won't change us, because we're friends and we know each other. But one year from that day many things had changed. ^M00:35:15 And it took me almost ten years to write a song about it, because I felt that what happened almost summed up war anywhere. Where ordinary people like ourselves can get divided up into little groups, maybe different religions or different colors or different nations, and told we're different human beings. People have found that useful sometimes, to keep us divided. ^M00:35:38 [music] ^M00:35:54 My song for you this evening, it's not to make you sad Nor for adding to the sorrows of this troubled northern land. But lately I've been thinking, and it just won't leave my mind To tell you of two friends one time who were both good friends of mine. ^M00:36:16 Allan Bell from Banagh, he lived just across the fields A great man for the music and the dancing and the reels. Sean O'Malley came from South Armagh to court young Alice fair And we'd often meet on the Ryan Road and the laughter filled the air There were roses, roses, There were roses, And the tears of the people ran together. ^M00:37:00 Though Allan he was Protestant and Sean was Catholic-born It never made a difference for the friendship it was strong. And sometimes in the evening when we heard the sound of drums We said, It won't divide us, they will always be the one. ^M00:37:22 For the ground our fathers ploughed in, the soil it is the same And the places where we say our prayers have just got different names. We talked about the friends who'd died and we hoped there'd be no more It's little then we realized the tragedy in store There were roses, roses, There were roses, And the tears of the people ran together. ^M00:38:02 It was on the Sunday morning when the awful news came round Another killing has been done just outside Newry town. We knew that Allan danced up there, we knew he liked the band But when we heard that he was dead we just could not understand. ^M00:38:28 We gathered at the graveside on that cold and rainy day And the minister he closed his eyes and he prayed for “No revenge.” And all the ones who knew him from along the Ryan Road They bowed their heads and said a prayer for the resting of his soul. There were roses, roses, There were roses, And the tears of the people ran together. ^M00:39:13 Fear had filled the countryside, there was fear in every home. When the car of death came prowling round the lonely Ryan Road. A Catholic would be killed tonight to even up the score O Christ, it's young O'Malley that they've taken from the door. ^M00:39:38 “Allan was my friend,” he cried, he begged them with his fear. But centuries of hatred have ears that cannot hear. 'An eye for an eye' filled their minds, And another eye for another eye till everyone is blind. There were roses, roses, There were roses, And the tears of the people ran together. ^M00:40:22 So my song for you this evening, it's not to make you sad Nor for adding to the sorrows of this troubled northern land. But lately I've been thinking, and it just won't leave my mind To tell you of two friends one time who were both good friends of mine. ^M00:40:57 I don't know where the moral is or where the song should end But I wonder just how many wars are fought between good friends. And those that give the orders are not the ones to die, It's Bell and O'Malley and the likes of you and I.. There were roses, roses, There were roses, And the tears of the people ran together. There were roses, roses, There were roses. ^M00:41:57 [applause] ^M00:42:09 >> Thank you very much, indeed. I am -- I suppose people often ask how or why was there trouble? And, uh -- maybe it's no wonder when you think about it. We went to different schools. We learned different histories. We play different games. Actually, it's a little bit -- I might read -- Moya -- [to Fionan] You’re tied to that are you? I'll read a little bit, just very short, but I won't detain you long, as Henry VIII used to say to the wife. [laughter] It's a little piece about going to school, and if -- I went to a Catholic school, but there was one Protestant there, and he's very important for me because if you don't know someone, it's very easy to start -- it's much easier to resolve a problem if you do know them. And it's very easy to start a war between people if the people don't know each other. There's a little quotation that I'll just read before that about the importance of actually learning each other's songs and learning each other's story. It's actually -- It's just a very short quotation, but maybe a little bit relevant. When Herman Goering, the founder of the Gestapo, when he was asked in Nuremberg if he thought that ordinary German people supported the war, he said -- this is a quotation: ^M00:43:55 "The people can always be brought to do the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they're being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country." End of quotation. Herman Goering. But this is a piece about how I got to know the other side, if you like, even though I'd grown up, but they -- anyway. ^M00:44:32 There were no Protestants at Mayobridge School except Harry McGarry. He was different. He didn't come into the catechism class when the rest of us were learning about who made the world and who God is. "God is our father in heaven, Creator and Lord of all things," we learned. Instead, Harry kicked a ball about the schoolyard on his own. While we were becoming good Christians, he was becoming a good footballer. ^M00:44:59 [laughter] But he told me that he also believed in God, and that he even believed that it is God who made the world. I said I liked football, too, and we became good friends. I noticed that he never touched the ball with his hands when he played. "We're not allowed to," he said. ^M00:45:18 "Is it a sin?" I asked. [laughter] "I suppose so," He said. What a strict religion, I thought. ^M00:45:29 Later that evening my father explained to me that it wasn't really football he was playing at all. It was a game called soccer and it came from England. Our football game was called Gaelic and it was Irish. "Is it a sin for a Catholic to play soccer?" I asked my father. "Well, if you play for a Gaelic team, then you're not allowed to play for a soccer team," he said. "That's rule 27 in the official GAA guide." ^M00:45:54 [laughter] "Would you go to hell if you did?" I asked. "Not necessarily." He said. "But you might be told to." [laughter] ^M00:46:07 >> He explained that all down the years England wanted Ireland to become English, but by playing their own games and singing their own songs, the people here were saying, "We're Irish." England didn't want Protestant people here playing Irish games either, in case they would become Irish, and then Ireland would not become English after all. It all sounded very complicated to me, but I passed it on to Harry as best I could. And we played a mixture of Gaelic and soccer in the schoolyard. ^M00:46:30 The next day, Harry told me that his dad had told him to tell me to tell my dad that even if good Protestant policemen wanted to play Gaelic, which they didn't anyway, but even if they did, the narrow Gaelic rules would not allow it, and to "put that in his pipe and smoke it." ^M00:46:50 That night my father told me to tell Harry to tell his dad that the rule only came about because the police force had made an earlier rule banning their own policemen from playing Gaelic games, and to put that in his pipe and do what he liked with it. I don't think either of them even smoked pipes, but I knew they liked whiskey and I wondered why they didn't tell each other all those complicated things while they drank together in Newry on a Saturday night. Still, some of the messages rubbed off on the messengers and we learned a lot, Harry and me, in that playground of knowledge at the Bridge of Mayo. Sometimes Harry and I wondered why Catholics and Protestants didn't go to the same school in the first place. ^M00:47:29 "Tell young Sands to tell his dad that Catholics won't go to state schools because the Church of Rome wants to keep control over them, and while he's at it, would he ask him if he could lend me the loan of the stirrup pump for a few days' whitewashing." "Tell young McGarry to tell Big Davy that for years England made it illegal for Catholics to receive any education at all and hounded their teachers and priests during the Penal days and was it any wonder Catholics built their own schools, and what the hell stirrup pump is he talking about?" ^M00:48:01 "Tell that wee skitter's get to tell his ol' Fenian da that the Penal days were years ago and there are now lovely schools and dinners and warm fires in every room for everybody to learn in, and there would be one in Mayobridge too, but the Catholics wouldn't go to it. And the stirrup pump is the one he said was great for whitewashing with last Saturday night in Hale's pub." ^M00:48:23 "Tell that black-mouthed son of a Presbyterian Orangeman that they can stick their soup and their pot-bellied stoves for those schools tell only an English view of Irish history and well he knows it, and that I can't lend him the stirrup pump because I lent it to him last summer and he never gave it back, but if I had it, he would get it, for he's a decent man, and if he isn't doing anything next Monday, could he give me a day at the threshing?" ^M00:48:48 And so it went on until the seemingly insoluble conflicts would be shelved for the time being, for friendships were just as deep as differences and life went on from sowing to mowing and from mowing to threshing. Ok. [End of reading] ^M00:49:02 [ Applause ] ^M00:49:10 >> The thing is, very often, we didn't talk about you-know-what. We talked about the weather. I suppose if we did talk about you-know-what there's going to be a row. Because in those days there was only one question asked: Are you British or are you Irish? And like most referendums which only asks two questions, usually that begins trouble, it doesn't solve it. I think with the Good Friday Agreement, we created a preferendum rather than a referendum. We learned to distinguish between democracy and majoritarianism. Majoritarianism north of the border or south of the border will scare a minority away. Why should I be a minority in your country if I can draw a line and be a majority in mine? I think majoritarianism is a little bit like three wolves and two sheep having a democratic vote abouy what they should have for supper. [laughter] If people think that they can't change anything when they vote, they don't vote. So I think -- although the Good Friday Agreement, or the Belfast Agreement was described as a -- by some as a masterpiece of deceit and by others as a masterpiece of positive ambiguity, it is very important because it gives people space. It put some of the impossible problems out of the way to be dealt with at another time, but we solved what we could solve. And maybe what we have created has -- is a template of possibility for other countries of similar conflicts. We find ourselves being invited along to Israel and Palestine to sing and tell some stories. Because maybe if we realize that everyone wants to be shared in the decision making process, otherwise it can't work. But I'm delighted to be here in the Library of Congress because it's all sorts of strange connections. The house that we live in east river once belonged to a man called Ross, who's a man who burned the original White House. [laughter] He was a general in the British army. And it's painted white because of the burns on it. And that's I think how it became known as the White House, as far as we know. Is that correct, Nancy? Yes. And there's a monument to him at home, people are a little bit -- it's one of those monuments it's there. But they -- another reason why I'm delighted to be here is because some of the people who have worked in this place I admire very much. Some of the great American patriots have been here, working here. I think in particular of a man who has influenced people all over the world, he's been very important for people in Europe and all over the world. Whenever they look towards America and we're scared. But the man I speak of is Pete Seeger. ^M00:52:51 [Music] And he -- I think he deserves -- ^M00:52:54 [ Applause ] ^M00:52:58 When I think of America, I don't necessarily think of very powerful politicians with very powerful weapons -- that scares me. I think of people like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, and I feel much better. ^M00:53:13 [music] This song -- we recorded a song from Pete called "Where Have all the Flowers gone?" Beautiful song. ^M00:53:27 And I was aware of the history of the song and I was also aware that Joe Hickerson wrote the last two versus of it with Pete. And I’m glad that Joe is here, today. Let us show where he is, please. ^M00:53:42 [ Applause ]^M00:53:52 Joe. It's such a powerful, important song. I'm going to sing a song called "The Music of Healing" which I wrote with the help of Pete. And anytime you come over here we always try to go to see him. But I -- just a few weeks ago -- the name of the song "The Music of Healing." It's the name of the seminar that we do each year, whenever we invite politicians from different backgrounds who find it difficult to meet publicly. We create a sense of music and humanity with the music and neighborliness and hopefulness. And this year we were giving an award to Pete. Pete didn't make it over, but Tao, his grandson came. He's also a great man. And I decided to invite Gerry Adams and Jeffrey Donaldson for the event. And Jeffrey told me before, he said "I'll come down, but I can't shake hands with Gerry Adams." Jeffrey had -- I -- relations who were shot by the IRA. And he told me that for him, if he's seen to being shaking hands he will lose, I suppose, certain -- he wants to keep onboard all extreme elements within the DUP. And I understood that, and Gerry Adams understood it, too. But when we got Tao to sing "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" at the end, Both Gerry Adams and Jeffrey Donaldson sang it. And singing a song together is just as important, maybe more important than shaking hands together. Thanks Joe, thanks Pete. Thank you America for giving so much hope and inspiration to the world through these great people. This is a song which we wrote called "The Music of Healing." ^M00:55:41 [ Music ] ^M00:56:08 Don't beat the drum that frightens the children. Don't sing the songs about winning and losing. Sit down beside me, the green fields are bleeding. Sing me the music of healing. Sing me a song of a lover returning. The darker the night, the nearer the morning. Bring me the news of a new day that's dawning Sing me the music of healing. ^M00:56:40 Ah, ah, the heart's a wonder, Stronger than the guns of thunder, Even though we're torn asunder Love will come again. ^M00:56:57 [ Music ] ^M00:57:09 Somehow the cycle of vengeance keeps turning ‘Till each other's sorrows and songs we start learning. Peace is the prize for those who are daring, Sing me the music of healing. Who would have thought I could feel so contented To know I was wrong after all of my rambles. I've learned to be hard and I've learned how to tremble, Sing me the music of healing. ^M00:57:42 Ah, ah, the heart's a wonder Stronger than the guns of thunder. Even though we're torn asunder, Love will come again. ^M00:57:59 [ Music ] ^M00:58:11 Sometimes the truth's like a hare in the cornfield You know that it's there but you can't put your arms 'round it, All you can hope is to follow its footprints, Sing me the music of healing. Ah, time is your friend, it cures all your sorrows, But how can I wait for another tomorrow? Take one step today and thousand will follow, Sing me the music of healing. ^M00:58:45 Ah, ah, the heart's a wonder, Stronger than the guns of thunder. Even though we're torn asunder, Love will come again. ^M00:59:01 >> You can sing it with me: Ah, the heart’s a wonder: ^M00:59:04 Ah, ah, the heart's a wonder, Stronger than the guns of thunder. Even though we're torn asunder, Love will come again. ^M00:59:34 [applause] ^M00:59:50 >> Thank you. Thank you. Thank you very much. I know it's getting late and you have to go back to work, many people. But we'll do another one. Actually, since Halloween's coming close, we'll give you a very old dance and a song that exists in the -- the dance exists in a lot of old cultures, you know, it exists in the North American indigenous people, also in India and China. I know of dances -- similar type of dances. It's kind of a -- in Ireland, Halloween is called Samhain. It's the end of the old year and the beginning of the new one. Because the Celts believed that all life began in darkness. It emerged in the spring but it began in the darkness, and that is the time of the year when the veil between the living and the dead was at its thinnest, and this -- the last sheaf of corn to be cut in the harvest, it was called a cailleach. This plant, like a woman's hair. And the cailleach is a -- the spirit of the harvest. We used to take it into the house for good luck in the wintertime. And she used to come in the back of the north wind and brush away all the bad energy of the old year, preparing for the New Year. And it's called "The Dance of the Cailleach." Cailleach is the Irish word for “wise woman” or “the veiled one.” And there's a part in it, maybe, it's a bit high maybe for this hour of the day, to sing it, but I can see that the music is shining out of your eyes, it's just about opening your mouth and letting it out as far as I can figure it out. It goes like this: ^M01:01:43 [ Halle Hi, Halle Ho! ] ^M01:01:53 You might have to open your mouth very wide. I'd have to see yesterday's dinner. You ready? ^M01:02:01 [Song: “Dance of the Cailleach” lyrics obscured by music.] ^M01:03:53 [instrumental music] ^M01:06:15 [ Applause ] ^M01:06:33 >> Thank you very much. We'll finish off with this one. And -- if -- we got a few CDs and book or two, there. If you can persuade Moya that they're going to a good home, she might part with a few. But since -- that dance is about, I suppose, changing things and moving ahead. And this is a song that we'd like to sing with you that we sang during the week of the Good Friday Agreement in Belfast. And the politicians were very nervous. They were worried. Not about their opponents, but about their supporters. And for years it was like watching two busses meeting at a narrow bridge and neither driver wanting to give way, because you didn't want to let down these passengers. And it's only when the passengers got up and went to the driver and said, "Look, it's all right, you can go back a little bit because we all want to go forward." And it was only then that the political landscape began to change, and it has been changing ever since. But there are meetin' up at the castle buildings, and we got up and we sang outside the buildings. Cause politicians were under a lot of pressure, and they were inside talking but a lot of what was happening in the media was interviewing people who disagreed and so on, because the media can't handle peace too loud. [laughter] If you put a calm sea and a blue sky on a television screen and hold that shot for more than five seconds, people will be getting their remote controls, searching for new channels and storms. And we decided that we will create a storm for the six o'clock news. And 20 catholic children and 20 protestant children, and lambeg drummers, fiddlers, and pipers, we all went up there. And we started to sing outside. And when the politicians heard the singing, they stopped talking. And they come out and started to sing with us. And they -- this is one of the songs that we sang. A song which I wrote about Belfast, the Lagan, the river which runs through it, and it's called "Down by the Lagan Side." And if the politicians can sing this chorus, you can sing it even better. [laughter] >> The chorus goes "When we dance, we dance together. When we cry we hold each other. When we love, we love forever down by the Lagan side." ^M01:08:59 Well I thought she was a vision that stopped me with her smile. Down by the river we walked along in style. She says you're welcome back again and won't you stay a while Down by the Lagan side. When we dance, we'll dance together. When we cry, we'll hold each other. When we love, we'll love forever. Down by the Lagan side. ^M01:09:56 I said who owns that music so full of joy and pain That the pipers and the harpers and the lambeg drummers play. She said who owns the teardrops falling in the rain Down by the Lagan side. When we dance, we'll dance together. When we cry, we'll hold each other. When we love, we'll love forever. Down by the Lagan side. ^M01:10:46 And do you not remember we once walked side by side And the bells of Belfast City sang in harmony and pride. The past it has been taken but the future's yours and mine, Down by the Lagan side. ^M01:11:07 When we dance, we'll dance together. When we cry, we'll hold each other. When we love, we'll love forever. Down by the Lagan side. ^M01:11:28 [speaks] I can hear you singing nice and soft and sweetly out there. Sing it a little bit louder. It sounds beautiful up here, but we are a long way away from you. So if you sing it a little bit louder we can hear you a little bit better. Go on, try it. And if you can sing it higher than me, sing it higher. Sing it again. ^M01:11:49 When we dance, we'll dance together. When we cry, we'll hold each other. When we love, we'll love forever. Down by the Lagan side. ^M01:12:10 Do it again! When we dance, we'll dance together. When we cry, we'll hold each other. When we love, we'll love forever. Down by the Lagan side. ^M01:12:32 >> [speaks] Before we finish, we'd like to say many thanks to Chris, and Don, and [inaudible] a big round of applause, please. [applause] ^M01:12:44 And to Nancy Gross, and all the wonderful team of people here at the Library of Congress. Thank you very much, indeed. And all of you now can sing this chorus with us, I'm going to be reasonably content. And we dance and we dance together. [speaks] When we dance, we’ll dance together -- ^M01:13:01 [sings] When we dance, we'll dance together. [speaks] When we cry -- [sings] When we cry, we'll hold each other. When we love, we'll love forever. Down by the Lagan side. ^M01:13:28 [ Applause ] >> Thank you very much. Thank you. ^M01:13:49 Female Speaker: This has been a presentation of the Library of Congress. Visit us at loc.gov.