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Triant​á​n

by Triantán

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1.
A hungry feeling came o’er me stealing And the mice were squealing in my prison cell And the old triangle went jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal Ba mhór an t-ocras a bhí do’m chiapadh Is scread ag na luchaí i mo chillín chaol Agus d’fhuaim an triantán ina chlingean-chleangan Ar fud na mbruach den Royal Canal To begin the morning the screw was bawlin’ Get up you bowsie and clean out your cell And the old triangle went jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal. Go moch ar maidin bhí an scriú ag béiceadh ‘Éirigh a bhabhsaí agus glan do chill’ Agus d’fhuaim an triantán ina chlingean-chleangan Ar fud na mbruach den Royal Canal
2.
Chuaigh mé isteach i dteach aréir Is d’íarr mé cáirde ar mhnaoí an leanna Duirt sí liom “Ni bhfaigh tú deor, Buail an bothar is gabh abhaile!” Níl sé ‘na lá, ní go fóill Níl sé ‘na lá, ‘s ní bheidh go maidin Níl sé ‘na lá, ní go fóill Solas ard atá sa ghealaigh Chuir mé lámh isteach mo phóca D’íarr mé briseadh scillinge uirthi Duirt sí liom suigh síos chun bord Is bí ag ól anseo go maidin “Éirigh i do shuí, a fhear a’ tí, Cuir ort do bhríste is do hata Go gcoinne tú ceol leis an duine cóir A bheas ag ól anseo go maidin” Nach mise féin an fear gan chíall A d’fhág mo chíos isteach mo scornaigh D’fhág mé léan orm féin Is d’fhág mé séan ar dhaoine eile
3.
Up wi’ the carls o’ Dysart and the lads o’ Buckhaven And the kimmers o’ Largo and the lassies o’ Leven Hi ca’ thro’, ca’ thro’ for we hae mickle a do Hi ca’ thro’, ca’ thro’ for we hae mickle a do We hae songs tae sing and we hae stories tae tell We hae pints tae bring and we hae pennies tae spend We’ll live all our days and them that comes behind Let them do the like and spend the gear they win
4.
Capernaum 03:01
If a’ the blood shed at thy Tron Edinbro’, Edinbro’ If a’ the blood shed at thy Tron Were shed intae a river It would ca’ the mills of Bonnington Edinbro’, Edinbro’ It would ca’ the mills of Bonnington For ever and for ever If a’ the tears that thou hast grat’ Were shed intae the sea Where would ye find an Ararat Frae that fell flood tae flee? If all the psalms sung in thy kirks Were gaithered in a wynd It would shaw the tops o’ Roslin’s birks Till time was oot o’ mind If a’ the broken hearts o’ thee Were heaped in a howe There would be neither land nor sea But yon rede brae and thou
5.
dTigeas a’ damhsa damhs’, dTigeas a’ damhsa dom dTigeas a’ damhsa, damhsa, damhsa dTigeas a’ damhsa dom Goirim i gcónaí, gcónai Goirim i gcónaí dom Goirim i gcónaí, gcónaí, gcónaí Maidin De Luain ab’ fhearr Buachail aniar, aniar Buachail aniar ab’ fhearr Buachail aniar, aniar, aniar Is cailín ó Shliabh na bPeann Buachail maith suaiste, suaiste Buachail maith suaiste ab’ fhearr Buachail maith suaiste, suaiste, suaiste ‘S cailín deas dúinne liom
6.
Down in yonder glen there’s a ploo’boy lad In summer’s days he’ll be all my ane And sing laddie, aye, and sing laddie o The ploo’boy laddies they are a’ the go I will hae nae miller wi’ his dusty coat The merchants gear is nae worth a groat And when I see my ploo’boy’s smile ‘Tis in his arms I would bide a while I love him weel I love nane but him I love the very cart he hurls in I see him comin’ frae yonder toon Wi’ all his ribbons hanging roon’ and roon’
7.
B’aite liom fhéin ‘bheith ar thaobh mhalaí shléibhe Is cailín gaelach a bheith ‘mo chomhair Bheinn dá bréagadh ‘s ag teannadh léithe Is dar liom fhéin, a rún, gur dheas ár ndóigh Ag éirí domh fhéin ar maidín an lae ghil ‘S mé ag dhul fán choill craobhaigh ‘s mé a’ seoladh bó Tharla domh an spéirbhean ‘s í ina suí ar an léana Is a failling léithe is í lán de chnonn’ D’fhiafar mé díthe go ciúin is go céillí “An nglacfaidh tú póg uaim, a stór mo chroí?” D’oscail sí a béilín agus labhair sí i mBéarla Is é duirt sí “Pray sir and let me be!” Is nach maith an airí ar na buaibh ‘bheith á sántú Is bheinnse dá seoladh amuigh sa lá Im agus báinne iad ar theacht an tSamhraidh Is mar gheall ar an bhólacht a phóstar mná
8.
Seal dá rabhas im’ mhaighdean shéimh ‘S anois im’ bhaintreach caite thréith Mo chéilse ag treabhadh no dtonn go tréan De bharr na gcnoc ‘s san imigéin ‘Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear ‘Sé mo Chaesar gile mear Suan ná séan ni bhfuaireas féin Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghile mear Grief and pain are all I know My heart is sore my tears will flow We saw him go, our buachaill beo No word we know of him, ochón Bímse buan ar buairt gach ló Ag caoi go crua ‘s ag tuar na ndeor Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachail beo ‘S ná ríomhtar tuairisc uaidh mo bhrón We’ll sing his praise while sweet harps play And proudly toast his noble fame With spirit and with mind aflame So wish him strength and length of days Séinntear stáir ar chláirsigh cheoil Is líontar táinte cart ar boird Le h-intinn ard gan cháim gan cheo Chun saol is sláinte d’fháil don leon Gile mear ‘sa seal faoi chumha ‘S Éire go léir faoi chlócaibh dubha Suan ná séan ni bhfuaireas féin Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghile mear:
9.
A Shéarlais Óg a mhic Rí Shéamais Sé mo chreach do thriall ar Éirinn Gan ruainne bróig, stóca nó léine Ach a’ coscairt leis na Francaigh Óró sé do bheatha chun abhaile Óró ós cionn a’n duine eile Óró sé do bheatha chun abhaile Tá tú amuigh le ráithe Ó ‘sé mo léan géar nach bhfeicim Mura mbeinn beo ‘na dhiadh ach seachtain Séarlas Óg agus míle gaiscioch A’ coscairt leis na Francaigh Tá Séarlas Óg a’ triall thar sáile Beidh siad leisean cúpla garda Beidh siad leis Francaigh agus Spáinnigh ‘S bainfidh siad rinnc’ as na Gaillibh
10.
Craigie Hill 04:03
It being in spring And the small birds they were singing Down by yon shady arbor I carelessly did stray The thrushes they were warbling The violets were charming For to view two lovers talking A while I did delay She said, “My dear, don’t leave me All for another season Though fortune may be pleasing I’ll go along with you I’ll forsake friends and relations And quit this Irish nation And to the bonnie Bann banks Forever I’ll bid adieu” He said, “My dear, don’t grieve me Or yet annoy my patience You know I love you dearly Although I’m going away I’m going to some foreign nation To purchase a plantation For to comfort us hereafter All in America. The landlords and their agents Their bailiffs and their beadles The land of our forefathers We’re forced for to give o’er Now we’re sailing on the ocean For honor and promotion And we’re parting from our sweethearts It’s them we do adore If in your bed you’re lying And thinking of dying One sight of the bonny Bann banks Your sorrows you’d give o’er For if your were but one hour All in her shady bower Pleasure would surround you You’d think on death no more So fare thee well sweet Craigie Hill Where often times I’ve roved in I never thought in my childhood days I’d part you any more Now we’re sailing on the ocean For honour and promotion And our bonny boats are sailing Way down by Doolin’s shore
11.
'S e mo ghradh na gamhna gealla Hillean oro bha ho Theid do'n chro's nach ol am bainne Hi horo ri ri o Hogi o hillean o ro bha ho Theid do'n chro's nach ol am bainne Theid a dh'Eirinn ris a ghealaich Theid a dh'Eirinn ris a ghealaich 'S a thig as le aon seol mhara Hi horo ri ri o Hi horo ri ri o Hi horo ri ri o Hogi o hillean oro bha ho Tha MacCoinnich ann's MacLeoid 'S Mac Mhic Alasdair o'n Chro 'S Mac Mhic Alasdair o'n Chro 'S Mac Ic Ailein nach eil beo
12.
Let the farmer praise his grounds Let the huntsman praise his hounds Let the shepherd praise his dewy scented lawns But I’m more wise than they I spend each happy night and day With my darlin’ little cruiscín lán, lán, lán With my darlin’ little cruiscín lán Ó, grá mo chroí mo cruiscín Sláinte geal a mhúirnín Grá mo chroí mo cruiscín lán, lán, lán Ó, grá mo chroí mo cruiscín lán Immortal and divine Great Bacchus, god of wine Create me by adoption your own son In hopes that you’ll comply That my glass will ne’er run dry I’ll take another cruiscín lán, lán, lán, I’ll take another cruiscín lán When cruel death appears In a few, but happy years He’ll say “Why don’t you come along with me?” I’ll say, “Begone you knave For great Bacchus gave me leave To take another cruiscín lán, lán, lán To take another cruiscín lán”
13.
14.
Gun dragh d'chuir e an t-eagal oirnn Solus Cnoc na Feille Horo horo illean horo a heile Bha feadhainn ann a chunnaic e 'S cach ag inns' nam briagan Horo horo illean horo a heile Ach muinntir an da shealladh Chitheadh iadsan co-dhiubh e Horo horo illean horo a heile Hoginn o, hoginn o, horo horo illean Hoginn o, horo illean, hoginn o hoginn o Tha lach is giadh is curracnag 'Nan caraidean air a'mhachaire Tha feannag air a crochadh suas Ceangailt le ropa Tha coineanach 'sa ghainmheach Ne sheasamh, abhair urchaire
15.
Gura mise tha fo eislean Go moch a’ mhaduinn is mí g’eirigh O hi shuibhlain leat Hi ri bho,ho ro bhi Hi ri bho ho rinn o ho Ailein Duinn, o hi shuibhlain leat Ma’s ‘en cluasag dhuit an ghainheamh Ma’s ‘en leabaidh dhuit an gheamainn Ma’s ‘en t-iasg do choinleann geala Ma’s ‘en roin do luchd faire D’olain deoch ge b’oil le cach e Deoch de d’fhuil ‘s tu i ndiadh do bhathadh
16.
Ah, King Willie he’s gone over the raging foam He’s wooed a wife and he’s brought her home And he has wooed her all for her long gold hair His mother’s wrought them a mighty care And a withy spell she’s laid on her And though she has been with child For long and many’s the year Yet no child will she ever bear And in her power she lies in pain And King Willie he stands all at her bedhead And down his cheeks the salten tears do run So King Willie he has to his mother run And he’s gone there as a begging son He says ”Me true love has this wondrous steed The likes of which you have never seen. On every part of this horse’s mane Is hanging fifty silver bells and ten Is hanging fifty bells and ten This goodly gift shall be your own If back to me own true love you’ll turn again That she might bear her baby son “Ah, this child she will never lighter be Nor from sickness will she e’er be free But she will die and she will turn to clay And you will wed with another maid!” So sighing says this weary man As back to his own true love he’s gone again “I wish me life was at an end!” So King Willie he has back to his mother run And he’s gone there as a begging son. He says “Me true love has this golden girdle Decked with jewels all around the middle On every part of this girdle’s hem Is hanging fifty silver bells and ten Is hanging fifty bells and ten This goodly gift shall be your own If back to me own true love you’ll turn again That she might bear her baby son “Ah, this child she will never lighter be Nor from sickness will she e’er be free But she will die and she will turn to clay And you will wed with another maid!” So sighing says this weary man As back to his own true love he’s gone again “I wish me life were at an end!” And then up spake his noble queen And she has told King Willie of a plan Where she might bear her baby son She says “Now you must get you Down to the market place And you must buy you a loaf of wax And you must shape it as a child that is to nurse And you must make two eyes of glass And ask your mother to the christening day And you must stand all close by as you can That you might hear what she do say’ So King Willie he’s gone down to the market place And he has bought him a loaf of wax And he has shaped it as a child that is to nurse And he has made two eyes of glass He’s asked his mother to the christening day And he has stood all close by as he could That he might hear what she do say And how she spat and how she swore She’s seen the child where no child could be before She’s seen the babe where there was none before “And who was it who took out the nine witch knots Braided in amongst this lady’s locks? And who was it who took out the combs of care Braided in amongst this lady’s hair? And who was it the master kid did slay That ran and slept all beneath this lady’s bed That ran and slept all beneath her bed? And who was it unlaced her left shoe And who was it who has let her lighter be That she might bear her baby son?” And it was Willie who took out the nine witch knots Braided in amongst this lady’s locks And it was Willie who took out the combs of care Braided in amongst this lady’s hair And it was Willie the master kid did slay And it was Willie who unlaced her left shoe And he has let her lighter be And she has borne her baby son And many and great were the blessings them upon And great were the blessings them upon
17.
A hungry feeling came o’er me stealing And the mice were squealing in my prison cell And the old triangle went jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal Ba mhór an t-ocras a bhí do’m chiapadh Is scread ag na luchaí i mo chillín chaol Agus d’fhuaim an triantán ina chlingean-chleangan Ar fud na mbruach den Royal Canal To begin the morning the screw was bawlin’ Get up you bowsie and clean out your cell And the old triangle went jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal. Go moch ar maidin bhí an scriú ag béiceadh ‘Éirigh a bhabhsaí agus glan do chill’ Agus d’fhuaim an triantán ina chlingean-chleangan Ar fud na mbruach den Royal Canal

about

“A CD of unaccompanied Irish & Scottish traditional songs in Gaelic and English is a brave production from Antipodean folkies. But the Sydney trio, Triantán, have made it work with their sure voices, varied arrangements and well rehearsed and extremely polished performance.

Each of the three voices has particular appeal. Judy Pinder’s low alto packs emotion into every phrase, beautifully exemplified in ‘An Cailín Gaelach’. Miguel Heatwole demonstrates a mastery of Jekyll & Hyde qualities, from cultured and honey-smooth to a rough, rascally edge as in ‘Cruiscín Lán’. Anthony Woolcott’s rich tenor evokes calling across mountains that Frankie Armstrong would delight in, as in ‘Farewell to Stirling’.

Some of the songs are well known, such as ‘Mo Ghile Mear’ and the title track ‘An tSean Triantán’ (known better on this side of the world as ‘The Old Triangle’). Many are less known and the collection suggests some years of dedicated song research, especially in singing sessions in both Australia and the old countries (making such research a pleasure!). ..... this album’s a beauty!” (Christine Wheeler – Cornstalk Magazine)

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released October 2, 2020

Triantan [pronounced tree-un-tahn] is the Irish word for triangle, but Anthony Woolcott, Judy Pinder and Miguel Heatwole are just good friends....and singers.

Their blend of Gaelic and English, of spine-chilling laments, blood-curdling war chants, songs of love and betrayal, of drinking bouts and dancing, leave an unforgettable impression of the richness of traditional life in Scotland and Ireland.

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Miguel Heatwole Sydney, Australia

Miguel’s a versatile singer, choral director & composer. His interests include folk & world music, political satire, the environment, trade unionism & the responsible enjoyment of alcohol. His songwriting embraces themes like peace & justice, the family cat, & visceral passionate attraction. His enthusiasm for recording community singing has let many people share the power of their songs. ... more

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