^B00:00:02 Female Speaker: From the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. ^E00:00:05 ^B00:00:10 Nancy Gross: Well, it looks like some people will be joining us a little late, but we might as well start. Thank you all for coming. I'm Nancy Gross. I'm the folklorist for the American Folklife Center. I'm delighted to welcome you to the Library's Mary Pickford Theater for special lecture and demonstration by Irish song collector and singer Maurice Leyden. In spring 2007, Northern Irish scholars and artists gathered at the Library of Congress in and around Washington, D.C., to present and promote Northern Irish arts and culture through the rediscover Northern Ireland program. This lecture is a continuation of last year's historic collaboration through the Library of Congress and the Arts Council of Northern Ireland and the government of Northern Ireland which highlighted the areas unique geographical, cultural, and musical landscapes. This year, through the generosity of our co-sponsor, the Arts Council of Northern Ireland, we've been delighted to offer a series of three presentations by researchers and performers. Today's presentation is the third and the last of 2008 Northern Ireland events, which began in October with a performance by the noted singer and songwriter Tommy Sands, and continued with last month's presentation by the traditional singer Len Graham. Today we're honored to be joined by Maurice Leyden, a singer, song collector and researcher from Belfast. He was born in Cookstown, County Tyrone, a small rural town in the center of Northern Ireland. His initial interest in singing during the early 1970s with the folk revival, which introduced him to such folk groups as Planxsty and to the singing of fellow Northern Irelanders such as Robert Morton and Cathal McConnell, both of whom were involved in the international acclaimed group Boys of the Loch. By the end of the 1970s, Maurice had deepened his interest in songs by listening to the singing of Len Graham, Eddie Butcher, John Maguire, Joe Holmes, John Kennedy, and Paddy Tunney. After a few years as a singer, he realized that despite living in Belfast for many years, he had no Belfast songs in his repertoire. His research led to the compilation of his first book Belfast: City of Song, and actually was just nice enough to donate a copy to the library which I should be holding up, but it's gone missing in the back. The enormous amount of children -- oh, thank you! [applause] Male Speaker: Right on cue. ^M00:02:30 Nancy Gross: The enormous number of children, street songs and games he found during his time in Belfast led to his second book, which I'm sure he'll be glad to hold up. [laughter] This publication led him to be invited to perform and teach songs and games in primary schools on both sides of the political/social divide throughout Northern Ireland, and I believe, if I'm not mistaken, his wife Jane, who is also here with us, was equally involved in this project. More recently, his interests have focused on the songs and tradition of Northern Ireland hand weave -- handloom weavers. For centuries, weaving was a major economic mainstay of Ireland's economy. Today, Maurice will discuss his songs of the handloom weavers during the 18th, 19th centuries, the contexts in which the songs were performed and the folk customs associated with that important craft. This is Maurice's first trip to Washington, so if you'll please join me in making him welcome. Thank you. ^M00:03:31 [applause] ^M00:03:39 Maurice Leyden: This one, okay. Thank you all very much. I don't know where you've actually seen the poster. Before I start, that is not me, okay? It's an old photograph I came across while I was researching. But anyway, thank you very much for coming along to this lecture on the handloom weavers from the province of Northern Ireland. Before I start, I would really just like to thank Nancy and the Library of Congress for inviting me over and giving me this platform to sing these traditional songs of Ireland, many of which that I've actually saved from oblivion, so I'll be singing them for you. I just feel very honored be pulled out of Belfast, an ordinary 9 to 5 job, to do this, and I have to say my reputation at home on the back of this trip has gone through the roof. [laughter] As people stop me and say, "You're going where? To do what? To sing?" Because there's not many singers with the people I work with so they still find the stuff I do a bit strange. So I think I'll be dining out on this trip for some time to come. But I suppose I couldn't possibly come to Washington, first time for both Jane and myself, and what a treat it is, but at this particular juncture in history, when hope and history reign, as Humas Heeney described our problems in Northern Ireland, whenever we're coming to a sort of agreement, moving away from, "No, you can't," we're moving toward a sort of "Yes, we can," as well, so for us we have a sort of double historic point in our lives from Northern Ireland. And here I've even got my copy of the Fifth of November Washington Post, which I will be showing them when I get back home as well. So coming from Ireland, I suppose I'm well used to people talking about how many generations removed they are from Ireland; I get that all the time. But just by watching your election unfold, I'm just amazed at how many of the African-Americans talked about how many generations they were removed from slavery. For us on the other side of the Atlantic, that's quite an eye-opener. But I just wanted to give you a quick anecdote before I jump in, because Belfast actually played its part in anti-slavery as well. In 1785, there was a Mr. Waddell Cunningham, called for a public meeting, and he wanted signatories to sign up for the West India Trade Company, and that, in essence, was for the use of slave trade, for the use of that. What he hadn't bargained for at this meeting, because obviously a lot of Belfast entrepreneurs at that time, 1785, were trying to make profit -- what they hadn't bargained for was a man called Thomas McCabe who came into that meeting, and he single-handedly stoppered the meeting. He ended up putting a curse on them and said, "May God wither the hang and consign the eternal infamy the man who will sign that document." So single-handedly, there was no company formed on that particular day in Belfast in 1785, and Thomas McCabe was known forever after as Thomas "The Slave" McCabe, so that was a Belfast contribution to anti-slavery movement. Okay, so I've got to move into the songs here, and I'll give you some context because I'm realizing that I parachuted in here, but just to give you some idea of how these songs came about and what these weavers were like when they were singing. You can hear me okay, yeah? And you can understand me, can you? [laughter] Good. From time immemorial weavers sang and worked on their looms. Shakespeare, writing in Henry IV, wrote, "I would I were a weaver, I could sing all manner of songs." Another song, "The Weaver's Sweet Home": "Farewell to my family, my shuttle and loom that once made me sing." A 19th century ballad, "The weaver sings an easy song while sitting on his loom." And there is a portrait of a weaver from 1860. "He whiles away the tedious hours of day by singing songs of which has a good stock." Robert Cinnamond is a great singer and collector in the 1950s. He talked -- he said, "My sister is a weaver and sang all day." So music surrounded the weavers and the loom that they worked at was like a musical instrument, which accompanied them as they wove and they sang. So I've got a quote from a poem, "I went to my loom to see was she in tune." So that's how they looked at it. And if the loom was out of order, the maintenance man was known as the tuner, in the way that we would have a piano tuner. So there were many moving parts; he was brought in to bring the loom back into tune. And the weaver, for himself, if he wasn't in good tune, if he was in bad form, he would -- there's a song which has a line, "I'm a poor old weaver and greatly out of tune." So weavers wrote about their trade with a great sense of pride. The best known song, "If it weren't for the weavers, what would we do." So that's how they saw themselves. They crafted their songs, as they did their webs, with great care. The songs, for me, are the soundtrack to the history of the linen industry. The words and the music are the warp and weft of their compositions, and they felt because they clothed kings and queens through the century, they felt they had a special position in society and were a cut above everyone else. The high, the low, the rich and the poor, anybody young and old, they all need the work of the weavers. And this attitude is reflected in their songs. They were very skilled craftsmen, and it's said that the characteristics of a good handloom weaver of the more substantial fabrics were a hawk's eye, a bear's foot, and a lady's hand. So you've got the three images of the foot working all the time, the hawk's eye to make sure that the patterns they were weaving were rigidly stuck to, and the lady's hand is a kind of very delicate sort of thing. Soft hands, weavers were always recognized as having very soft hands. Now, in their songs they generally introduced themselves in the first line of the song so there was no doubt about who composed the verses and what their trade was. So you've got the wee weaver, "I am a wee weaver, come fine tune my loom." That's "The Wee Weaver." I'll come back to that later. Long Cookstown, "It's three long quarters I have been weaving and for my weaving I was [unintelligible]." "The Jug of Punch," "It be on the 24th of June, as I sit weaving on me loom," I'll come back to that one later as well. So all the songs that I will be singing are from the province of Ulster, that's made up of the nine counties of the north of Ireland. This was of the linen industry of the early 18th right up to the mid-20th century. That was the full span of the whole linen. So from the 18th century onwards, handloom weavers were able to expand their repertoire of songs from sources outside their normal locale. The increased demand for linen gave rise to numerous new local markets and fares throughout Ulster. So the handloom weavers attended these markets ostensibly to sell their linen webs but also to buy yarn so they could weave more webs. However, there were others who went to these markets, totally unconnected with the linen trade, and these were the ballad singers, and the chop men, those who sold the street literature. They could advertise their wares by gouldering or shouting their songs at the tops of their voices in order to sell these ballad sheets. I'm sure you're familiar with the ballad sheets, so forgive me if I'm going over some old ground for you. This is how they built up their repertoire. And there was a line in the song by Donnybrook Fair, "There stumpers of linen and weaver repair and singers of ballads." Now, weavers pinned these ballad sheets to the timber of their looms so they could exercise their minds and learn the words as they worked. A traveler, or a tourist as we may call it now -- a traveler in 1860, noticed the weavers and how they cherished the songs and gave them pride of place. This is a portrait of a handloom weaver from 1860, "He whiles away the tedious hours of the day by singing songs of which he has generally a good selection. The stocks of his loom are generally papered with the current ballad poetry of the day, and sometimes maybe seeing the portrait of some rustic or other beauty," -- obviously the start of the pinup coming in here, and we see why in a minute -- "he has always the new songs first in the country for being oftener out in the market towns and for generally having a taste for such he has an eye out for anything of the kind and in this way he becomes quite an authority amongst amazed and admiring rustics." So you can see as well as writing their own songs they were also, like myself, collecting them from wherever they could. Their lifestyle was mired in their songs, and that can be very easily summarized by wine, women and songs. Some examples from "The Roving Journeyman": "And every time that I go through, I get a new sweetheart. Sweet [unintelligible] of Tyrone, I will do my endeavor to please all the fair maids abroad and at home," and "The Jug of Punch": "and on my knee a smiling wench, and aye on the table a jug of punch." Now, back home in Northern Ireland we have an expression to describe somebody who is drunk, and it comes from the linen industry. "When a weaver had woven 40 yards, or a cut, he was paid for his work. Too often he went to the pub and got cut with his money. Sometimes the linen merchant paid out a sub when he was half cut or 20 yards," and that was the expression that we use for somebody who is half-cut, or somebody who is half drunk. So that's the [unintelligible]. It actually feeds into some of our language of today. So I'm going to start with this song, "Nancy Whiskey," which I came across -- it was a collection of Scottish songs published in the 19th century compiled by Gavin Geed and Rev. Jim Bruce Duncan. The song is still sung in Scotland as the Celten Weaver, and Celten was in Glasgow, a renowned area of weaving in Scotland. Amazingly all the version in the Greed/Duncan version refer to Dublin's city. The song is also known as the "Longford Weaver," or "Long Cookstown," that's back home, Cookstown is where I was born, so this song actually traveled with the roving journeymen around England, Scotland and Ireland, looking in search of work. And they brought these songs with them and they were picked up in different areas at different times. So this song that I'm starting with, it's not really a love song between a man and a woman, but it's an unadulterated description of a drinking binge. [laughter] The weaver is obsessed with the love of Nancy Whiskey, the drink, not a woman. Hence the title of the song, "Nancy Whiskey." In true weaver style he has plenty of money and is determined to spend every last penny on it. There's a moral at the end of this one, telling people to stay away from the drink because you pay a price. This is "Nancy Whiskey." ^M00:15:27 I'm a weaver, a Dublin weaver I am a weaver to me trade I've got too much money in my pockets so I'll go try this roving trade Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Whiskey Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy, Oh As I went down through Dublin City It's Nancy Whiskey I chanced to smell I went in, for to see my Nancy Here's to seven long years I loved her well The more I kissed her, the more I loved her the more I loved her, she only smiled 'Til Nancy Whiskey, til Nancy Whiskey, 'Til Nancy Whiskey did me beguiled. As I went up through Dublin City Nancy's sister I chanced to smell And I went in, spent a four and sixpence and none remained by the crooked scale. I do not value this crooked sixpence neither will I horde it up in store but I'll go and take another [unintelligible] Then I'll go home and work some more. So I'll go home to my old master My little shuttle I'll turn a while I'll make more at the Linden weaving Then ever I did at this roving trade. So come all you weavers, you Carlton weavers Ye linen and weavers, where ever you be Don't lay your love upon Nancy Whiskey or she'll ruin you as she's ruined me. Thank you. ^M00:17:38 [ Applause ] ^M00:17:46 thanks. I'm not singing the full versions of songs; I'm just singing snippets to you [unintelligible]. If you want the full words you can have them for the archive. The next one's "The Belfast Mountains," and in the early 1980s, as Nancy already said, I was singing traditional songs from the province of Ulster but I had none from Belfast, where I was living and working. So the search for Belfast songs led to the first book, Belfast: City of Song, and I'm going to sing you one of the songs from that, "The Belfast Mountains." It's a song of unrequited love, and it's one of the few songs about Belfast that was continually published in ballad sheets and chop books throughout the 19th and 20th century in England and in Ireland. First published probably around 1820 by Jay Catnock in London, Lucy Broadwood was still collecting it in the late 1900s and Sam Henry from Northern Ireland was collecting it as well in the 1920s and the 1930s, so a very long life cycle for that particular song in print. The version I'm going to use is from the original ballad sheet from 1820, and the melody was eventually published in a George Petri collection, and he got the tune from a Mr. P. Madoul in March 1859 under the title "The Belfast Mountains", so I put the two together, reunited the ballad sheet words with the tune after many decades of separation. The River Claddy in the first line is on the back slopes of Divis Mountain, which is part of a necklace of mountain that surrounds Belfast, and the fast-flowing waters of the Claddy were harnessed to drive the machinery back in the 1700s which were introduced in the 1730s, the 1740s, and into this particular area. So the song as I say is about unrequited love for a woman who cannot get the weaver to stay with her. "The Belfast Mountains." ^M00:19:47 'Twas on the Belfast Mountains I heard a maid complain, Making her lamentation Down by yon crystal stream, She says 'I am confined, Oh, in the bonds of love, Oh by a brisk young weaver Who doesn't constant prove. If I'd but all those diamonds That on the rocks do grow ^M00:20:41 I give them to my weaver lad If him to me his love he'd show.' Wringing her hands and crying 'My Johnny dear, farewell!' Unto those Belfast Mountains My sorrow I would tell. "The Belfast Mountains." Thanks. ^M00:21:18 [ Applause ] ^M00:21:24 Plenty room up at the front, folks. Right, this is a bit of a letter from 1847, by a clergyman, and it's about the effects of the famine in north Urma to the relief committee to the Society of Friends and he wrote as follows: "Weavers are sitting up three nights a week to procure food for families. There is scarcely a family in the parish in which there is not one or more members of the family sitting up nightly. I have seen them at 2 a.m. working as busily as in the day time." That was in 1847. [Unintelligible] Lynchly was from Anteshone from County Downy Gall and in his memoirs, The Last of the Name, he recalls nighttime working in the 19th century, "Many a night I spent at the loom and while others of my age were out gallivanting, I was busy earning money. And many a half crown I made when other young fellows my age were away at dances or [unintelligible]." So this particular song comes from County Downy Gall, and the singing of Bridget Tunney, who is the mother of Paddy Tunney, for those of you who are familiar. Paddy Tunney lived from 1921-2002 and both those people had considerable influence on the current generation of the Northern singers, since they were first recorded in the 1950s. There are nine Downy Gall fiddle players; Johnny Darte, 1951 -- 1980, he hummed and he played this song on his fiddle as a slow [unintelligible] of "The Wee Weaver" when he was being recorded in 1952, and he told the story about the song. He said, There once was a weaver and he was a very careful kind of a man. He wanted to save up and be very careful. Nearby there was a cobbler and he was a very careful kind of a man too and he wanted to save everything. So one night he came to the weaver for an advice as to how to save and the weaver began to sing this [unintelligible] and the name he called it was "The Wee Weaver." So anyhow the weaver, it seems, he became so sad singing the ayer that he had to forsake his loom. He had to forsake his loom for that night. He couldn't go back to his work." So, "I Am the Wee Weaver," a love song with a splendid rural setting of Loch Garrin shore and County Fermanagh, and as you can hear, the weaver couldn't go back to his work. So anybody who's out on the long shore put your hands over your ears, because when you hear this song you might want to go back. "I am the Wee Weaver." ^M00:24:05 I am the wee weaver, confined to my loom My love she's as fair as the red rose in June She is loved by all others, and that does grieve me My heart's in my bosom, of lovely Mary As Mary and Willie rode by yonder green bough Where Mary and Willie spent many a happy hour Where the thrush and the [unintelligible] do concert and chorus The praises of Mary round Loch Garrin shore As Mary and Willie rode by yonder Loch's side Says Willie to Mary will you be my bride? This couple they got married and they rode no more They'll have pleasures and treasures, round Loch Garrin's shore I am a wee weaver, confined to my loom My love she's as fair as the red rose in June She is loved by all others, and that does grieve me My heart's in the bosom, of lovely Mary ^M00:26:40 [ Applause ] ^M00:26:45 Thanks. The next song's "The Maid of Ballydoo," and Sean O'Boyle was commissioned by the British Broadcasting Corporation, the BBC to you and me, in the early 1950s to collect songs that were in danger of being lost, and he described an experience he had in County Down, One evening in the morn country, just above [unintelligible] pass, I was talking to sheep drover Joe Brannigan who offered to sing me "The Maid of Ballydoo." He told me where Ballydoo lay, between Hilltown and Maya Ridge and then in one glorious mouthful he said, "Ballydoo's where they'll make you a drop of potching, snare a hare, shoot a gross, or court a nice wee girl." Anything at all like that, do you know what I mean? Where there's sport and hospitality, the best people in the world. So this weaver tells us in the last verse this time, where he's sitting at his loom composing this particular song, he's obviously a self-educated weaver, and he probably was a member of one of the many reading societies that were proliferating in the County Down during the mid-19th century. And to prove his point, you'll hear in the last verse "the assonance of sut, sitting, silently, scissors sweetly shuttle." He's trying to tell us he's a man of learning. You'll also see many references to the Roman Greek gods and goddesses which were typical of the country headschoolmasters, really in the previous century. I suppose it's a result of the [unintelligible] laws when schools had to be done out in the open air by hedges; that's how they were taught, writing on a piece of slate. So they were called the "hay schools." A century later, the weavers who became self-educated, took on this mantle of using these images really to show how educated they were. So they really took on this romantic mantle, and you'll find examples where the lovers are always compared in hyperbolic language to Greek gods such as Cupid, god of love, Diana, goddess of hunting, Venus, the goddess of love, Juno and Hyman as well. So this maiden comes from Ballydoo. She far excels in love, of course, that's why they use this. She's compared to Aurora. So I'll give you a verse of this. It's a song of praise certainly of the weaving, but it's also in praise of where to running and live from which was Ballydoo, Mayo Ridge and Hilltown. The song is still being sung by traditional singers, and I don't know whether any of you would have known David Hammond -- I knew him very well; he died at the end of August. So this is one of his favorite songs. I sing it for him. "The Maid of Ballydoo." ^M00:29:23 It was on a summer's morning all in the month of May Down by yon flowery arbor, I carelessly did stray It was there I spied a charming maid, most pleasing to my view And the title that she gave herself was the maid of Ballydoo I boldly stepped up to her and unto her did say "Are you Aurora or Flora queen of May? Or is it fair Helen that appears all in my view?" But the title that she gave herself was the maid of Ballydoo. Well, I took her by the lily white hand and by the waist so small I showed her me father's garden down by the river Bann Where the sheep and lambs do sport and play, the trout and salmon too And says I, "Sweet maid, don't be afraid for to leave old Ballydoo" Well, it was with great persuasion that I got her for to give consent And hand in hand together 'twas to Hilltown down we went Where we drank liquor of the best and some of the mountain dew And she soon forgot the vow she made when leaving Ballydoo It was on a summer's evening all in the month of June As I sat sitting silently, condoling at my loom My scissors they cut sweetly and my shuttle nimbly flew When I first composed these verses on the maid of Ballydoo ^M00:31:27 [ Applause ] ^M00:31:36 Thanks. Right. Another song, this one's called "Our Wedding Day," and I'm sure you're familiar with "She Moved Through the Fair:" ^M00:31:45 My young love said to me, my mother won't mind. And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind. ^M00:31:57 If you know that one, that song is probably one of the most famous to go beyond the shores of Ireland, and it actually was adopted by Padraic Collum from an older song, and I got to sing the older song that he drew on. It was first published in 1909, in Irish Country Songs, and I suppose you could describe Padraic Collum's interpretation of the old song as a bootlegged version, you'd probably describe it, these days. And you'd be quite right. This idea of plagiarizing or plundering traditional songs has always been a common feature of traditional singing, and you need look no further that William Butler Yeats and his version -- his interpretation, "Down By the Sally Gardens," which came from Ye Random Boys of Pleasure or Sean O'Casey the playwright continually drew on traditional songs and words for his plays. So it's part of the freedom from copyright, you might say, which these days has big legal issues. So "Our Wedding Day" is -- also I have to say, when I looked into it has all the ingredients of being plagiarized as well from many other songs. To me, it seems as if the weaver has decided to compose a song consisting of verses from his favorite songs, ballad sheets or whatever, as he sat weaving on his loom. I suppose you could say he wanted to download them onto his 19th century iPod, if that had been the case. But I haven't come across a song like this with so many floating verses, as we call them, verses that occur in lots of songs, but this one, this is the best example I've seen of it. So I think Patrick Collum he plagiarized it, and this one here as well is the same. What I found is that verse three, Bridget Tunney that I've mentioned, she sings a different version of this and it's identical to version three of this. The rose and thistle theme, which is in songs and particularly in verse four, and it's found in a song called "Going to Mass Last Sunday," or "Farewell to Ballymoney." Verse five is found in "The Star of Ben Bradden, If I Were a Fisher." Verse six is similar to a version found in the "Bonny Light Horseman." Verse seven is also found in the ballad sheet called "The Shuttle Cock." So you get the kind of thing he was composing -- he was making his work a lot lighter by doing this. So the song's certainly of unrequited love and there's a hint of eroticism in it obviously because the girl appears in his bedroom to tell him they're going to get married, and let me tell you, in 18th century Ireland, no girl gets near a man's bedroom. And it's in marked contrast to the following song. So this is "Our Wedding Day", which comes from the singing of Eddie Butcher. Eddie Butcher came from the [unintelligible]. "Our Wedding Day." ^M00:34:52 Once I had a sweetheart and I loved her well, I loved her far better than my tongue can tell, Her parents disliked me for the want of the year, So adieu to all pleasure since I lost my dear. So according to promise at midnight I rose I could find nothing there but the down-folded clothes, The sheets they were empty, as plain as you can see, And out of the window with another went she. Oh, Molly, lovely Molly, what's this that you have done? You have pulled the thistle, left the red rose behind; But the thistle will wither and fade away soon, But the red rose will flourish in the merry month of June. So it's early in the morning to my shop I do go, I cast on my loom as my shuttle I do throw; There nothing does ail me only innocent love, And I hope to be rewarded by the girl that I love. ^M00:37:19 Thank you. [ Applause ] ^M00:37:26 Okay, that was a fairly innocent song. This is what I call the x-rated part of the presentation. This is a song called -- a new song called "The Jolly Weaver." The first line of the "Come all ye" ballads was a late 18th century convention to gain the attention from those that they wanted to buy the song, or listen to it. "The Jolly Weaver" is typical of this because it's got the first line "Come all ye loyal weavers," and it makes it very clear in that one that this is a song from what we would say the Protestant side of the house back home and particular the masons, possibly the Orange Men, and you'll hear why because there's a lot of religious rituals in this particular song. For instance, the song warns to those who wear white gloves the man of [unintelligible], and it refers to the brethren as well. But this is not a sectarian song, not by any means at all. On the contrary, it's a very humorous, bawdy song with very sexual connotations in it. In this particular one, the weaver's loom is out of order, or to put it another way, he's having trouble with his tallalee, which is putting his marriage under severe stress, and his wife's not happy about it. You mightn't have got the picture but you soon will. [laughter] There are very, very few songs are explicitly sexual in nature, unlike English songs or Scottish songs where you'll find a lot more. Now, what made these bawdy weaving songs unique were the component parts of the loom became metaphors for sexual intercourse, or to put it another way, some weavers had very dirty thoughts in their head while they worked. This was a whole genre of songs, and there's plenty of them. I'll give you an example from England, this is 1804, the "Bury New Loom," and even by today's standard, this -- anybody who's easily offended, maybe you'd like to put your fingers in your ears for a second. So this is the "Bury New Loom." Well, she took me and showed me her loom. The down on her warp did appear, The lam-jacks and hettles put in motion I leveled her loom to a hair, My shuttle ran well in her lathe, My thread it worked well up and down, My level stood close to her breastbone the time I was squaring her loom. That's one of the sort of innocent verses; you can see I've scribbled a few out here. Scotland as well had theirs and Robbie Burns contributed to this type of song. He wrote about, "I'll fix your wheel behind my loom and rile you on the bed, and when my dearest dear I'll marry you when I take out my web." So there's another song of this nature in the Irish tradition, it's called Taglione, and it's not too hard. Whether it's Taglione or Tallalee, it's a euphemism for songs. But this is a really lighthearted one sung amongst the brethren and so this is called "The Jolly Weaver." ^M00:40:25 Come all ye loyal weavers that ramble up and down that wears gloves upon your hand like men of high renown that can sport and play with the maid that's generous and free and not like a [unintelligible] that's lost his Tallalee. Oh, when I was young I had the tongue to court a pretty maid but cupid with his cunning heart he has me betrayed He married me to a pretty girl who loving seems to be and now she kicks me out of bed for want of me Tallalee She stamps and swears upon the floor, oh, nothing can go right since I have lost me Tallalee that pleases her at night My looms are out of order so how can I work free show me the woman that loves a man without his Tallalee Oh but I will go to Cunningham my Tallalee to find and there I have three brethren I hope they will be kind I hope they will prove kind and be generous and free and restore to me again my famous Tallalee How happy is a woman that is in wedlock joined that can appear in country the market or the town The pleasures of a woman lies above her knee and the virtues of a young man lies in his Tallalee. ^M00:42:19 [ Applause ] ^M00:42:27 Good. So there you are. I had another song but I thought no, that's enough. Let's stick to the innocent side of love. I mentioned earlier all about these roving journey men who were very critical to the work. They also were very critical to the songs getting moved around. There's a saying that the journeyman had and it was, "I have neither reeds nor gears, shuttle or shears," and that meant they had no means of working, and therefore they had no means of earning money to pay off debts or whatever. The journeymen carried these basic set of tools with them wherever they went, and they traveled the country round, or from town to town in search of work, carrying the skills and their expertise with them. And this roving journey song mentions that he carried rubbing bones, shuttle and shears. Rubbing bones were no more than sheep's bones, and they were used to smooth any blemishes on the linen web to rub them down. The shears were similar to sheep shears, only much smaller, and they were for cutting off little pieces that protruded through the material, and the shuttle of course went backwards and forwards. That was the kind of tools that they had, and in the days when they used to throw the shuttle across the loom -- they physically had to do it -- the weaver had the shuttles molded to their own hands, the size of their hands, I suppose in the way a mouse would be molded today for work with computers, that's how they wove. Robert Cinnamond from [unintelligible] was recorded in 1952, and he sang just one verse of a song that mentioned these tools that he had: ^M00:44:05 Oh when I was a tailor I carried my bodkins and shears. When I was a weaver I carried my reed and my gears. My temples also my small reed in my hand, and wherever I go, here's a jolly bold weaver again. ^M00:44:35 That's all he sang of that song. I don't know if he made it up himself, but it just indicated that's how these roving journey men traveled around, and if you noticed the weavers could also be weavers as well. So when times were good the journeyman learned a lot, and for the manufacturer they were working for they could make big money and journey men were the key to the financial gains that could be made. Coot, who was an historian, wrote in the History of Monaghan: "At this trade, the weaver who is a journeyman will earn from one to two shillings per day, and at times the employer will make double the profit on journeyman's work." So you can see they were glad to see them coming. And this particular song mentions a canal in Strabane in County Dairy, and this was officially opened on the 21st of March, 1796, so this really dates this song to the early 1800s. "The Roving Journeyman." ^M00:45:27 I am a roving journeyman that roves from town to town, Wherever I get a job of work I'm willing to set down, And every time that I go through I get a new sweetheart So girls if you believe me, with you I'm sorry to part. Oh but I'll take up my rubbing bones, my shuttle and shears I'll sew Unknown to friends and parents a roving I will go With my knapsack over my shoulder and my small can in my hand and it's down to Dairy I will go like a roving journeyman. ^M00:46:15 So that's just a couple verses of that to show you how important they were. An interesting -- my point of view -- I'm going to really illustrate how a big song in the American culture actually came over and got entwined with our Irish handloom weaver song tradition. If I mentioned the name John Paine to you, I'm sure a lot of you would know about him. Born on the 9th of June 1792, in New York, became interested in acting at a young age. He first appeared at Julian Theater in London, in 1813, and also made some appearances in Ireland. In particular, "Home Sweet Home" became his most popular poem and eventually became a song. It was written in 1822, and first sung in Covent Garden Theater in London in 1823, in the opera Clary the Maid of Milan. And apparently, he was appointed American consul in 1831, and posted to Tunisia and died on the 10th of April, 1852. And his ashes were brought back to Washington in 1853, where he was reentered into the immortal melody of "Home Sweet Home," which was composed by Sir Henry Bishop -- that's who the melody was composed by -- Sir Henry Bishop, who lived from 1785 -- 1855. So the version that got picked up in the ballad sheets, because it was such a good melody, it was recycled many times with many words, new words were written to the tune, or the tune itself was used for a lot of songs. But this particular one eventually worked out comes from the late 1820s and that was -- I suppose Britain was recovering from the aftermath of the Battle of Waterloo, and the debate at the time, it was said, If you raise the price of provisions without proportionately raising that of labor, to what privations and evils must you necessarily expose the laborer? The laborer must go to the parish or turn to some more profitable employment if by chance any can be found, or he must emigrate or work himself out by over-strained exertions. Some echoes of today I have to say in that one. In Ireland, emigration and starvation was a really statistically significant long before the Great Famine of 1845, which simply accelerated that whole process. Between 1815 and 1845, there were 14 partial or complete potato famines in Ireland. In 1845, it was called the Great Famine because it obviously lasted so long. At that stage one and a half million people left Ireland and half that number were going to Britain. So this was between 1815 and 1845. Six of the 12 most emigration prone counties were in Ulster, which indicates there was a standing impact on the linen industry. So the song kind of conveys the devastation and how people emigrate in search of work. I have to say, despite all the poverty in this and hunger, there's no rage vented against the politicians or employers. There's no hint of a class struggle. The weavers hoping against hope that better times are ahead and that they will come around again and that he'll be able to get back to his country. Also interesting to note that the family did not emigrate; it was just the husband off in search of work, and he left them, he left the family to fend for themselves. It was noted at the time the weavers -- this is [unintelligible] - by 1830 -- the weavers leave their wives and family behind, who generally support themselves during the absence by begging. This is "The Weaver's Sweet Home." They took the tune and wrote new words. ^M00:49:51 I am a poor weaver and forced to roam Far, far from my country, my own native home Farewell unto my family, my shuttle and loom That was made me sing there is no place like home Home, sweet home. Home sweet home there is no place like home. We travel through the country, employment to find but fortune was cruel and to me proved unkind I left my wife and family in sorrow to mourn and knew not when I'd return to my sweet native home Home, sweet home, home sweet home there is no place like home. And I took [unintelligible] to finish the song my whole trade will flourish, and it won't be too long so the weaver's and the spinners need no longer roam but may work contented in their own native home Home, sweet home, home sweet home there is no place like home. ^m00:52:02 [ Applause ] ^m00:52:10 Okay, so to conclude my diddy and to finish up my song, We'll drink success to the weavers may the trade be carried on Like wives to her employers wherever they may dwell may the trade be in a flourishing state and never to fail. So let us all while in her bloom drink to her success the weaver's loom. So that was a song called "The Weaver's Turn." ^M00:52:31 So I'm going to finish this session, so thank you all very much for coming along. I forgot to say at the beginning that I forgot how strong the emigrant network is in this part of the world. When word got out in West Traver County Down that I was coming here the word came that I had relatives living here in the Washington area. So I'm delighted that they're here, and this is a great privilege for me to meet up with them, and I'll bring news of them back home with me. So you're very welcome. This particular song, it's one you probably know from the Clancy Brothers, the McPeak family in Belfast sang it, and it's just one of those songs that encapsulates the wine, women and song. It's a good song to finish on, and I'll sing it for you. Again, it's one from the weaving tradition although it might not be readily obvious that it is, but the first line is, "On the 24th of June as I sat weaving on my loom." Interesting, the weaver in this, the 23rd and 24th of June for us actually is the feast day of St. John the Baptist, so it would have been a holiday, so the weaver should have been out celebrating, but he's not, he's on his loom. The feast itself was known because even around 1750, as Kevin Donaher writes, bonfires and drinking were the two features of the day, "Round the fire young and old, there was much fun and music. A dance started, and games were played." Or, another man recorded, he said, "I often heard songs sung there and concertina music, or more rarely the local fiddler would be coaxed out to the fire." So this is the sort of setting for "The Jug of Punch." It's a song that encapsulates the life of a weaver, where he's obviously spent his life weaving. He's with great friends. He loves his drinking, he loves his jug of punch and he's got a woman on his knee. And when he dies he encourages everyone to drink and celebrate his life because he had a great life. So I'll finish with this, and by all means join in, there's a little bit in the middle. At the time, it was a new song called "The Jug of Punch." ^M00:54:40 Being on the twenty-third of June As I sat weaving all at me loom I heard a thrush singing in yon bush And the song he sang was the jug of punch La-da-dithery-idle-dum- dithery-doodle-didle-dum Dithery-dadle-ding-dong -dithery-didle-doodle-dum Da-da-doodle-dum -dithery-idle-dum Dithery-da-dadle -ding-dong-dithery-didle-dum Come all ye weavers that passed by you may call in if you be dry but if you have but a single crown you're welcome here for to sit you down La-da-dithery-idle-dum- dithery-doodle-didle-dum Dithery-dadle-ding-dong -dithery-didle-doodle-dum Da-da-doodle-dum -dithery-idle-dum Dithery-da-dadle-ding -dong-dithery-didle-dum Ye muses twelve and Apollo famed With Castillian pride drink pernicious dreams But I would not grudge them ten times as much As long I have my jug of punch. La-da-dithery-idle-dum- dithery-doodle-didle-dum Dithery-dadle-ding-dong- dithery-didle-doodle-dum Da-da-doodle-dum- dithery-idle-dum Dithery-da-dadle-ding -dong-dithery-didle-dum And when I am dead led in my mold It's upon my head put a flowing bowl So that everyone who passes by They may drink to health and remember I. La-da-dithery-idle-dum- dithery-doodle-didle-dum Dithery-dadle-ding-dong- dithery-didle-doodle-dum Da-da-doodle-dum- dithery-idle-dum Dithery-da-dadle-ding- dong-dithery-didle-dum Thank you all very much. Thank you. ^M00:57:06 [ Applause ] Thank you. ^M00:57:18 Oh, I forgot, does anybody, yes, I'm supposed to take questions. Is there any? Yes, go ahead. ^M00:57:26 Female Speaker: I tried to look into Scottish weaving traditions as much as I could from this side of the Atlantic at one point and one thing I noticed and accounted because of the songs, was that you'd have the men would shear the sheep, the women would spin the wool and then would weave the cloth, the women would pull the cloth and the men would tailor the cloth into clothing. ^M00:57:53 And at each point there was a song or a blessing that went with it as the textile changed hands. And I wondered if in Irish tradition there was something that was similar to this. ^M00:58:05 Not that I've found, no. More just that the songs here, and I have to say, basically, where this is coming from, I have a book written which I'm hoping to get published, and one of the chapters covers all those, the bleaching and spinning and all that. So I've done quite a bit of research on that, but nowhere can I find anything, as you said at the end of each trade they're symbolic. Part of the thing was in the Irish tradition of weaving, when it was domestic it was a family affair, so that in their little cots or thatched houses the wife she did the spinning and the children wound the bobbins. And the man did the weaving and then it went off for bleaching. So within that sphere there wouldn't have been -- I think the only celebration probably would have been when the weaver took the web to sell, because then he got his money to buy yarn or to buy whatever food. So that was the critical point. Yes? Female Speaker: Who were the flax growers? And did a family do linen and wool? Maurice Leyden: Well, generally at the point I'm talking about it was linen. They may well have done wool in that the spinning wheel that they used could have been used for wool and for linen. But yes, the flax growers -- again, families, depending on their setup, might have had a rented cabin in which to work, so they may have grown their own flax out in the field to get them by. I suppose when it was small scale it was easy to do that if they had a farm, if they had some land they grew the flax and they would become self-contained. It's when the demand outgrew the domestic production and more happened. For instance, Europe in 1861, the whole cotton imports stopped. Whenever that actually happened in Ireland the whole linen trade grew because nobody could get cotton. So your loss was our gain, the fact that cotton couldn't come out and the demand for linen. Therefore the industrialists started to grow flax and then the discovering of machinery in the 1840s, the use of the machinery, particularly in the post-famine era, that's when they would have done that to speed it all up. But flax was grown in the fields, yes. Female Speaker: They had to -- the flax -- we have the flax growers list so we could find some of our ancestors. And they had to register their flax or something? ^M01:00:35 Maurice Leyden: Someone would have had to, yeah, would have had to do it. Certainly to encourage domestic spending and that on flax, what happened was the Linen Board used to come and give spinning wheels out, and they would have written down that such and such got a spinning wheel to help them to earn money. But the flax growers, they would have taken it to market and certainly they would have taken it to mills. It would have been annotated, how much they -- how much it would have weighed to pay them for it. Female Speaker: Did they have when the mills have did they come to Northern Ireland at all? Of course everybody seemed to migrate, it seemed. Maurice Leyden: You mean the millers did? Female Speaker: The industrial revolution, did they cut back Northern Ireland right away? Maurice Leyden: Oh yes. I mean, that's what happened, yeah. The Industrial Revolution started with the finishing and with the bleaching and the smoothing out, that was the first to industrialize, so that was the first wave of the Industrial Revolution. And then decades after that, whenever steam was discovered, then the spinning became industrialized so that put a lot of domestic women out of work, and then in the wake of the famine they introduced the parloom with the steam. Because so many people emigrated, the craftsmen were away so that forced the local industrialists to bring in parlooms. They were used with a big [unintelligible], which is why they never bothered in the post-famine era. That was yet another phase of the Industrial Revolution. So there were phases, it didn't all happen at once. But yes, we had a lot of that and in fact in the book, whenever it gets published, I take the song from pre-industrial time to the post-industrial, when it became mechanized and traced what happened to the tradition due to mechanization. Yes? ^M01:02:32 Female Speaker: In the song "Nancy Whiskey," there was a line about -- something about "four and sixpence" -- Maurice Leyden: Crooked scale, yeah. Female Speaker: But what was after -- ^M01:02:40 Maurice Leyden: The crooked scale, it obviously was what they referred to as a bit of money. It was just a kind of a slang word. Female Speaker: A scale like you would weigh things on? Maurice Leyden: Yes, but it probably was just a small coin, a very small coin. But yes, you're right, a crooked scale. Female Speaker: Not of much use. Maurice Leyden: Not of much use, but still had value for drink. ^M01:03:01 But yes, because he says I do not value -- I do not value this crooked scale. But that's only because he's weaver, and he's telling us well I have plenty of money. A crooked scale for somebody else would have meant a lot. Good, so I'm finished. ^M01:03:19 [ Applause ] ^M01:03:21 Female Speaker: This has been a presentation of the Library of Congress. Visit us at loc.gov.