Words to Songs of Storybook — Storybook: Songs of Brendan Graham

Song Words

1 Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears (4.50)

Words & Music: Brendan Graham ©Peermusic (UK)

On the first day on January, Eighteen Ninety-Two,

They opened Ellis Island and they let the people through:

And the first to cross the threshold of that isle of hope and tears,

Was Annie Moore from Ireland, who was all of fifteen years1.

Isle of hope, isle of tears, isle of freedom, isle of fears,

But it’s not the isle you left behind:

That isle of hunger, isle of pain, isle you’ll never see again…

But the isle of home is always on your mind.

In her little bag she carried all her past and history,

And her dreams for the future in the Land of Liberty:

And courage is the passport when your old world disappears,

‘Cos there’s no future in the past when you’re fifteen years.

Isle of hope, isle of tears, isle of freedom, isle of fears,

But it’s not the isle you left behind:

That isle of hunger, isle of pain, isle you’ll never see again…

But the isle of home is always on your mind.

When they closed down Ellis Island in Nineteen Forty-Three2,

Seventeen million people had come there for sanctuary3:

And in springtime when I came here and I stepped onto its piers,

I thought of how it must have been, when you’re only fifteen years.

Isle of hope, isle of tears, isle of freedom, isle of fears,

But it’s not the isle you left behind:

That isle of hunger, isle of pain, isle you’ll never see again…

But the isle of home is always on your mind…

Isle of hope, isle of tears, isle of freedom, isle of fears,

But it’s not the isle you left behind:

That isle of hunger, isle of pain, isle you’ll never see again…

But the isle of home is always on your mind…

The isle of home is always on your mind.

1. When the song was written Annie’s age was given as 15 and her birthday Jan 1st. Later research proved neither to be true. She was 17 and her birthday was in May.

2. Encyclopedia Britannica gives the numbers passing through Ellis Island as 17 million – some of these could have been repeat passengers

3. ‘Closed down Ellis Island in 1943’, refers to Immigration being moved to NYC

2 Waltzing Alone (4.51)

Words: Brendan Graham/Donna Graham; Music: Anne Takle ©Peermusic (UK) / Dreamcatcher Productions A/S

O She lives up near the sky,

High up in the snow,

As a young ballerina,

She danced to steal the show:

But time had passed her by,

And all her dreams were gone,

Now, she sings to herself,

And she goes waltzing, alone.

He lives down in the woods -

The forest below,

And his dreams are of trees…

And to hear the wind blow:

And he had never danced,

No, never had shone,

And he never did sing,

Go never waltzing, alone.

One day he came,

Brought wood to her fire,

He saw her beauty,

She saw his desire:

Oh, how she waltzed him,

So easy and slow,

Called him her own,

Romeo.

And in the wintertime,

She dressed all in red,

And he brought her cloudberries,

The day they were wed:

They danced down all the days,

Till winter had flown,

And she made his heart sing,

As they went waltzing alone.

When springtime came,

The woods were ablaze,

She said ‘life burns so brightly,

So few of our days’,

Then, oh how he waltzed her,

So easy and slow,

Till she drifted away,

Like the snow.

He dressed her all in white -

A beautiful swan -

And he held her so tight,

Like, she never was gone.

He laid her down to sleep -

A bed made of pine -

And laid flowers at her feet…

Tied her hair with sweet vine:

And in her arms he’d wait,

For Heaven’s bright throne,

Where together, forever,

They’d go waltzing alone.

Together, forever…

Now, they’ll go waltzing alone.

Song story inspired by Ellen’s waltz – Valse du Coeur Glace (Waltz of the Frozen Heart) - in The Element of Fire (Brendan Graham, HarperCollins, 2001/2016).

3 Crucán na bPáiste (4.17)

Words: Brendan Graham; Music: Trad/Additional Music: Brendan Graham ©Peermusic (UK)

Is briste mo chroí, is uaigneach mo shlí,

Is mo stóirín in a luí is mé cráite;

‘s é deireadh mo shaoil, is mo chailín beag rua,

Sínte i gCrucán na bPáiste.

Ní fheicfidh sí arís an drúcht ar an bhféar,

Ná an sneachta i ngleannta Mhám Trasna;

Gan ghrian ar a haghaidh, gan ceol binn na n-éan,

Ach an chré fhuar i gCrucán na bPáiste.

In ainm an Athar is in ainm an Mhic,

Is a Mháithrín atá lán de ghrásta;

In ainm an Spioraid Naoimh ná fág mé beo,

Is mo mháinlín i gCrucán na bPáiste.

Is buartha na sléibhte is tá mairg ar an Measc,

Is olc mise gan í bheith sábháilte;

Is an fhad a bhéas mé beo ní sheasfaidh mé ar fhód,

Na hÉireann ná i gCrucán na bPáiste.

In ainm an Athar is in ainm an Mhic,

Is a Mháithrín atá lán de ghrásta;

In ainm an Spioraid Naoimh ná fág mé beo,

Is mo mháinlín i gCrucán na bPáiste.

4 The FairHaired Boy (4.39)

Words & Music: Brendan Graham ©Peermusic (UK)

Oh, my fair-haired boy, no more I’ll see,

You walk the meadows green;

Or, hear your song run through the fields,

Like yon mountain stream;

Your ship waits on the western shore,

To bear you o’er from me,

But wait I will till Heaven’s door,

My fair-haired boy to see.

All joy is gone that we once knew,

All sorrow newly found;

Soon, you’ll in California be -

Or, Colorado bound:

Let no sad tear now stain your cheek,

As we kiss our last good-bye;

Think not upon when we might meet,

My love, my fair-haired boy.

If not in life we’ll be as one,

Then, in death we’ll be;

And there will grow two hawthorn trees,

Above my love and me,

And, they will reach up to the sky,

Intertwined be,

And, the hawthorn flower will bloom where lie,

My fair-haired boy and me…

And, the hawthorn flower will bloom where lie,

My fair-haired boy and me.

From the novel ‘The Whitest Flower’ by Brendan Graham

5 Hardanger Bow (4.31)

Words: Brendan Graham; Music: Fionnuala Howard/Brendan Graham ©Peermusic (UK)

The sky is a Norwegian blue,

The sun seems to hang just under the moon;

Deep in the valleys, somewhere below...

She plays her Hardanger bow.

They say she’s a princess once turned to stone,

And nothing can save her, save love alone;

She lives in the rivers, the forests, the snow...

And plays her Hardanger bow.

It rings from the mountains, sings to the sea,

Across the wide fjord, it is calling to me;

She weaves it so gently, reels me in slow...

Till I dance to her Hardanger bow.

I’ve watched her pluck cloudberries then disappear -

She lets me get close but never too near;

Where does she go does nobody know...

To play her Hardanger bow?

It rings from the mountains, sings to the sea,

Across the wide fjord, it is calling to me;

She weaves it so gently, reels me in slow...

And I dance to her Hardanger bow.

Sometimes, in winter, when the cold Artics blow,

She cries in the wind...she plays soft and low;

Her music still haunts me wherever I go...

I still hear her Hardanger bow.

It rings from the mountains, sings to the sea,

Across the wide fjord, it is calling to me;

She weaves it so gently, reels me in slow,

I still dance to her Hardanger bow.

Oh, it rings from the mountains, sings to the sea

Across the wide fjord, it is calling to me,

She weaves it so gently, reels me in slow,

I still dance to her Hardanger bow…

Still dance to her Hardanger bow.

Inspired by the playing of Annbjørg Lien.

6 Till Morning Will Come (3.23)

Words: Brendan Graham; Music: Colm Graham ©Peermusic (UK) / Finest Music (US)

I have journeyed the miles,

Just to get here to you,

And if you should spurn me -

Then what would I do?

For I don’t seek your comfort,

Or your gentle caress,

But to still the raging torrent,

That lies in my breast.

Who knows of tomorrow -

If the tempest will rise,

And the seven seas of sorrow,

Fall down from the skies?

If the avenging archangel,

Descend from his throne?

So, lay down beside me…

Till morning, sweet morning, will come.

Oh, I don’t want to marry,

I don’t want your hand,

And I don’t want fine horses,

Or your valleys so grand,

And I don’t need your promise,

I seek nothing by right -

Just lay down beside me…

And love me tonight.

Who knows of tomorrow -

If the tempest will rise,

And the seven seas of sorrow,

Fall down from the skies?

If the avenging archangel,

Descend from his throne?

So, lay down beside me…

Till morning, sweet morning, will come.

7 Winter, Fire and Snow (4.14)

Macdara Woods; Adaptation & Music: Brendan Graham ©Peermusic (UK) / Dedalus Press

‘In winter fire is beautiful

beautiful like music

it lights the cave —

outside the people going home

drive slowly up the road — the strains

of phone-in Verdi on the radio

three hours back a fall of snow

sprinkled the furthest hill

where clouds have hung all winter,’

From a reading by the late Macdara Woods, with very kind permission of the Woods family.

In winter, fire is beautiful -

Beautiful, like a song;

In winter, snow is beautiful -

All of the winter long.

And you, little son come safely home,

Riding the tail of the wind;

May you always come this safely home...

In Winter, Fire, and Snow.

The day gets dark, uneasily -

Darker and darker still;

And you are gone to Carnival,

And I feel the winter, chill.

But you, little son come safely home,

Riding the tail of the wind;

May you always come this safely home...

In Winter, Fire, and Snow.

And you, little son come safely home,

Riding the tail of the wind;

May you always come this safely home...

In Winter, Fire, and Snow.

‘In winter fire is beautiful

beautiful like music’

In winter, fire is beautiful -

Beautiful, like a song;

In winter, snow is beautiful -

All of the winter long...

All of the winter...long.

From the poem Fire and Snow and Carnevale by Macdara Woods (Dedalus Press);

Dedicated to the memory of Macdara Woods, with thanks for his generosity and trust.

8 Knocknashee (5.55)

Words: Brendan Graham; Music: Neil Martin © Peermusic (UK) / Neil Martin Music

The winter now is here,

And the year steals so swift away…

Just like a thief in the night,

Who comes but to flee.

The berries are full bright,

And the small birds sing out to me,

Oh, but the cold wind blows hard…

Over…Knocknashee.

But I’ve no time -

No time for the season:

No reason to seek,

What glad tidings there may be:

Oh, but I curse, curse the very thought,

That took you away from me,

And left me behind here…

In… Knocknashee.

By summer’s radiant star,

And by love’s own sweetest decree,

None but the harsh moon,

Could steal your beauty from me:

Came autumn’s falling leaves,

And love’s wild uncertainty,

When, like a vision, you flitted…

From…Knocknashee.

I turned from God,

I spurned all religion,

And somehow you came,

Between Heaven and me;

Oh, how glad I would trade my very soul,

My dear Saviour never to see,

For to gain you I’d lose,

All eternity.

But once when passion’s worn,

Never more will it return…

Love loses fashion,

Like some old tired melody:

The heart that gives too free,

Will sorely rejected be -

Oh, how I loved you and lost you…

In…Knocknashee.

And I will go down –

Go down to the dark wood,

And find that sweet hollow,

Where once you lay with me:

And, I will face that final place,

Where the heart will not weary be,

And I will sleep the long sleep now…

In…Knocknashee.

9 A Winter Blessing (3.07)

Deep is the darkness that falls down on me,

Long is the long night, till morning will be;

Bright be the North Star, to shine constantly,

Till winter brings you home safely, to me.

Blessed be the west wind,

Blessed be the wild foam;

Blessed be the ocean,

To carry you home;

Blessed be cold winter,

Its storm and its sea;

Blessed be the true love,

That brings you to me.

Still is the valley, no bell to be ringing,

Silent the harsh frost, that crushes the tree;

Frozen the heart with no song to be singing,

Till winter brings you home safely, to me.

Blessed be the west wind,

Blessed be the wild foam;

Blessed be the ocean,

To carry you home;

Blessed be cold winter,

Its storm and its sea;

Blessed be the true love,

That brings you to me.

Blessed be the west wind,

Blessed be the wild foam;

Blessed be the ocean,

To carry you home;

Blessed be cold winter,

Its storm and its sea;

Blessed be the true love,

That brings you to me.

10 Sleepsong (3.59)

Lay down your head,
And I’ll sing you a lullaby ¬-

Back to the years,

Of loo-li, lai-lay,

And I’ll sing you to sleep…

Sing you tomorrow…

Bless you with love…

For the road that you go.

May you sail fair…

To the far fields of fortune,

With diamonds and pearls,

At your head and your feet:

And may you need never,

To banish misfortune:

May you find kindness…

In all that you meet.

May there always be angels, to watch over you,

To guide you each step of the way:

To guard you and keep you, safe from all harm,

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay.

May you bring love,

And may you bring happiness:

Be loved in return,

To the end of your days:

Now, fall off to sleep,

I’m not meaning to keep you,

I’ll just sit for a while,

And sing loo-li, lai-lay.

May there always be angels, to watch over you,

To guide you each step of the way:

To guard you and keep you, safe from all harm,

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay…

Loo-li, loo-li, lai…lay.