A Celebration of Twenty

by IONA

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about

A Celebration of 20 ...years, that is. IONA has forged new directions in Celtic music since 1986. Having traced the roots of our ancestors, physically and musically, we’ve learned that some of the richest material is to be found on our own shores. Through evolutions of wonderful musicians and friends, all of whom have led our steps in more and more challenging directions, IONA continues to grow and prosper. This album is a thank you to all those who have enhanced and appreciated our music. What an incredible journey it’s been... IONA in 2006 was: co-founders Barbara Tresidder Ryan (lead vocals, Celtic bouzouki, guitars, bodhrán and tambourine) and Bernard Argent (wooden flute, whistles, doumbek, vocals, shakers and bombarde) since 1986, Chuck Lawhorn (bass guitars, vocals and low whistles) since 2001, and Andrew Dodds (fiddle) since 2004; and was: Barbara Seymour, flute, whistles, guitar and vocals (1986 - 89), Alan Oresky, fiddle (1987 - 89), Diana McFadden, cello, mandolin and bouzouki (1991 - 98), Mary Fitzgerald, Celtic harp and vocals (1998 - 99), Bob Mitchell, Highland and Scottish small pipes (1998 - 2003), Nick Smiley, double bass, mandolin, bouzouki and vocals (1999 - 2001) Susan Walmsley (Hyams) on feet (2000 - 2004) and Ian Lawther, pipes great and small, concertina, whistles, clogging (2003 - 2004).
The album was released as a two album set. The first 11 tracks were recorded in 2006 on one CD subtitled "New Growth". The last 15 tracks, on the second CD subtitled "Deep Roots" were re-mastered from five earlier CDs.

credits

released May 15, 2006

Thanks to: Beth Patterson for teaching Barbara bottine souriante and for finding the Manx tune we use; Martha Chavez who gave us the music of her country and helped so much with Cantos de Arriero da Fonsagrada; Brenda Lawhorn for her incredibly good care of the band; Iain MacFarlane for teaching Andrew the Concertina Reel, Ash Plant and Fourth Floor; Collier Hyams for his help with sound; Cheryl Mitchell, always, for her help with Welsh pronunciation; Mike Kearney, Jr., David Eisner and Mary Cliff, whose support has kept us going over the years; the Virginia Commission for the Arts, which has included IONA in its Touring Program for so long; and to all of you who’ve believed in IONA!
Engineering and mastering: Scott Shuman of Shuman Recording, Falls Church, VA
For arrangements from Holding Our Own: Engineering by Micah Solomon, and mastering by Dave Glasser at Air Show
Mix down on the Marquis of Huntley set and The Highwayman: Trevor Higgins
Photography, art and graphics production: Steven Parke/imagecarnaval.com
Produced by: IONA and Scott Shuman
Liner notes: IONA
Management by Barnaby Productions, Inc.

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about

IONA Washington, D.C.

IONA has been taking its unique brand of traditional Celtic music to festivals, arts centers, schools & house concerts all over North America and Europe since 1986, blending music from the various Celtic traditions with stories and a little humor - Barbara Ryan (vocals, bouzouki, bodhran), Bernard Argent (flute, doumbek), Chuck Lawhorn (bass), Jim Queen (fiddle, banjo) & Kathleen Larrick (dance). ... more

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Track Name: The Emigrant's Song
EMIGRANT’S SONG

I’m a stranger to this country,
From America I come.
There is no one here does know me,
They do not know my name.
I’m a stranger to this country,
And I’ll tarry for a while,
And then I’ll wander further
For many a long mile.

The moon shall set in darkness.
The stars will give no light
If ever I unfaithful prove
To my dear heart’s delight.
All in the midst of ocean
Shall grow the myrtle tree,
If ever I deceitful prove
To the one that goes with me.
© 2006 Barnaby Productions Inc.
Track Name: V'la le Bon Vent
V'LA L'BON VENT

Chorus:
V'la l'bon vent, v'la l'joli vent
V'la l'bon vent, mon amie m'appelle
V'la l'bon vent, v'la l'joli vent
V'la bon vent mon amie m'attend

Derrière chez nous y a t-un étang. [Repeat]
Trois beaux canards s'en vont baignant
Chorus

Trois beaux canards s'en vont baignant. [Repeat]
Le fils du roi s'en va chassant.
Chorus

Le fils du roi s'en va chassant [Repeat]
Avec son grand fusil d'argent.
Chorus

Avec son grand fusil d'argent, [Repeat]
Visa le noir tua le blanc
Chorus

Visa le noir tua le blanc. [Repeat]
O fils du roi tu es méchant!
Chorus

O fils du roi tu es méchant [Repeat]
D'avoir tué mon canard blanc.
Chorus
© 2003 Barnaby Productions Inc.
Track Name: Lily of the West
LILY OF THE WEST

When first I came to Louisville my fortune there to find,
I met a fair young maiden there, her beauty filled my mind.
Her rosy cheeks, her ruby lips, they gave my heart no rest,
And the name she bore was Flora, the Lily of the West.

I courted lovely Flora some pleasure there to find,
But she turned unto another man which sore distressed my mind.
She robbed me of my liberty, deprived me of my rest,
Still I loved my faithless Flora, the Lily of the West.

Way down in yonder shady grove, a man of bold degree
He spoke unto my Flora there, and kissed her ‘neath a tree.
The answers that she gave to him like arrows pierced my breast.
I was betrayed by Flora, the Lily of the West.

I stepped up to my rival, my dagger in my hand.
I seized him by the collar there, and ordered him to stand.
All in my desperation, I stabbed him in the chest!
I killed a man for Flora, the Lily of the West.

I had to stand my trial, I had to make my plea.
They placed me in the prisoner’s dock and then commenced on me.
Although she swore my life away, deprived me of my rest,
Still I love my faithless Flora, the Lily of the West.
© 2003 Barnaby Productions Inc.
Track Name: Bachgen Bach O Dincer
BACHGEN BACH O DINCER

Chorus:
Potsiar peipar twigar owns agen
The potsiar o the peipar
O the knickerbocker line.
La di da di da di
Hock it on ddy chen,
The potsiar o ddy pipar
O ddy knickerbocker line.

Bachgen bach o dincer
Yn myned hyd y wlad.
Cario’i dwls a’i dacle’,
Neud ei waith yn rhad;
Yn ei law ‘roedd haearn,
Ac ar ei gefn ‘roedd bocs,
Pwt o getyn yn ei geg
A than ei drwyn ‘roedd locs.
Chorus

Holi hwn ac arall
Ple’r aeth y tincer mwyn,
Gyda’i becyn ar ei gefn,
A chetyn dan ei drwyn.
Bachen bach o dincer
Ni welir yn y wlad;
Mae’n golled ar ei ôl
I ‘neud ei waith yn rhad.
Chorus
© 2003 Barnaby Productions Inc.
Track Name: Cantos de Arriero da Fonsagrada
CANTOS DE ARRIERO DA FONSAGRADA

Tu cantar arriero.
Cantar que nunca se acabara.
Empieta por traer na nina,
Acaba por traer na nina.
Empieta por traer na nina,
Acaba por traer na nina.

Dicen de los arrieros,
Cantaban por cuesta arriba.
Arriba mula gallarda,
Arriba gallarda arriba!
Arriba mula gallarda,
Arriba gallarda arriba!
Track Name: Seallaibh Curagh Eoighainn
SEALLAIBH CURAIGH EÒGHAINN

O seallaibh curaigh Eòghainn
Is cóig raimh fhichead oirre
Seallaibh curaigh Eòghainn
‘S I seachad aig a’ Rubha Bhàn..

Bidh Eòghainn, bidh Eòghainn
Bidh Eòghainn na sgiobair oirr’
Bidh Eòghainn, bidh Eòghainn
‘S I seachad aig a’ Rubha Bhàn.
Track Name: The Highwayman
THE HIGHWAYMAN

In Newry town I was bred and born,
At Steven’s Green now I die in scorn.
I served my time to the sovereign trade,
But I turned out to be a rovin’ blade.

At seventeen I took a wife.
I loved her dearer than I loved my life,
But for to keep her both fine and gay,
I took to robbin’ on the king’s highway.

And when my bounty it did run low
Upon the highway I was forced to go,
And I to lords and ladies ride,
And rob their gold unto my heart’s delight.

I never robbed no poor man yet,
Nor honoured tradesman that I have met,
But I to lords and to ladies ride,
And rob their jewels unto my heart’s delight.

I robbed Lord Golden I do declare,
And Lady Mansel in Grosvenor Square.
I took my share and bade them good-night,
And home I went then unto my heart’s delight.

To Covent Garden I took my way
With my dear wife for to see a play.
Lord Golden’s gang they did me pursue
And I was taken by the cursed crew.

My father cried, “Oh my darling son”.
My wife she wept and said, “I am undone!”
My mother tore her white locks and cried,
“‘Tis in the cradle he should have died!”

And when I’m dead and in my grave,
A flashy funeral pray let me have
With six bold highwaymen to carry me.
Give them the broadsword and sweet liberty.

Six pretty maidens to bear my pall:
Give them white garlands and lilies all.
And when I’m dead let them speak the truth,
“He was a wild and a wicked youth!”
Track Name: The Real Old Mountain Dew
THE REAL OLD MOUNTAIN DEW

Let the green grass grow and the waters flow
In a free and easy way,
But give me enough of the rare old stuff
That’s made near Galway Bay.
The gangers all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim too,
We’ll give them the slip and we’ll take a sip
Of the real old mountain dew.

At the foot of the hill there’s a neat little still
Where the smoke curls up to the sky.
By a whiff of the smell you can plainly tell
That there’s poitín, boys, close by.
It fills the air with a perfume rare
And betwixt both you and I,
As home we go we’ll take a bowl
Or a bucket full of mountain rye.

Now learned men who’ve used the pen
Have wrote the praises high
Of the sweet poitín from Ireland green
Distilled from wheat and rye.
So away with the pills that can cure all ills
Of the Christian, pagan or Jew,
So take your coat and grease your throat
With the real old mountain dew.
Track Name: Hills of Connemara
Hills of Connemara (the Barnaby Song)

Chorus:
Gather up your pots and the old tin cans,
The mash, the corn, the barley and the bran,
And you run like the divil from the excise man.
Keep the smoke from rising, BARNABY!

Keep your eyes well peeled today,
Those excise men are on their way,
Drinkin' up that mountain tay,
In the hills of Connemara.

Chorus

Swing to the left and swing to the right,
Those excise men will dance all night,
Drinkin' up the tay ‘til the broad daylight,
In the hills of Connemara.

Chorus

A gallon for the butcher, a quart for Tom
A bottle for puir ould Father John,
To help the puir ould divil along,
In the hills of Connemara.

Chorus

Stand your ground, it is too late!
Those excise men are at the gate.
Glory be to Paddy but they're drinkin' it straight
In the hills of Connemara.

Chorus
Track Name: Fosgail An Daras Dhan Tailleir Fhidleir
Fosgail An Doras Dhan Tàilleir Fhidhleir
Fosgail an doras dhan tàilleir fhidhleir.
Fosgail an doras dhan fhidhleir thàilleir.
Fosgail an doras dhan tàilleir fhidhleir.
Cliamhain a' righ fhidhleir tàilleir.

‘Sdileas mise dha's càirdeach mi dha,
‘Sdileas mise dhan fhidhleir thàilleir,
‘Sdileas mise dha's càirdeach mi dha.
Cliamhain a' righ fhidhleir tàilleir.

Fosgail an doras dhan tàilleir fhidhleir.
Fosgail an doras dhan fhidhleir thàilleir.
Fosgail an doras dhan tàilleir fhidhleir.
Cliamhain a' righ fhidhleir tàilleir.

Bainne nan gobhar tàilleir fhidhleir,
Bainne nan gobhar fhidhleir thàillei,r
Bainne nan gobhar tàilleir fhidhleir,
Cliamhain a' righ fhidhleir tàilleir.

Fosgail an doras dhan tàilleir fhidhleir.
Fosgail an doras dhan fhidhleir thàilleir.
Fosgail an doras dhan tàilleir fhidhleir.
Cliamhain a' righ fhidhleir tàilleir.

Translation:
Open the door for the fiddling tailor.
Open the door for the tailoring fiddler.
Open the door for the fiddling tailor.
The king's son-in-law is the tailoring fiddler.

Failthful am I to him, kinsman am I to him,
Faithful am I to the tailoring fiddler.
Failthful am I to him, kinsman am I to him.
The king's son-in-law is the tailoring fiddler.

Open the door for the fiddling tailor.
Open the door for the tailoring fiddler.
Open the door for the fiddling tailor.
The king's son-in-law is the tailoring fiddler.

Goat's milk for the fiddling tailor,
Goat's milk for the tailoring fiddler,
Goat's milk for the fiddling tailor,
The king's son-in-law is the tailoring fiddler.

Open the door for the fiddling tailor.
Open the door for the tailoring fiddler.
Open the door for the fiddling tailor.
The king's son-in-law is the tailoring fiddler.
Track Name: Fare You Well
Fare You Well

Oh fare you well my darlin', oh fare you well my dear.
Don't grieve for my long absence while I am present here.
Since it is my misfortune a soldier for to be,
Oh try to live contented, and do not grieve for me.

She wrung her lily white hands, and so mournful she did cry,
You've enlisted as a soldier, and in the war you'll die.
In the battle you'll lie wounded, and in the center be slain.
It'll burst my heart a-sunder if I never see you again.

I'm going away tomorrow to tarry for a while,
So far from my dear darlin', it's about 500 miles.
I hope the time is coming that I and you shall meet,
With words and looks and kisses we shall each other greet.

Where cannons are loudly roaring, and the bullets by showers fall,
And the drums and fifes are beating to drown a wounded man's call,
Stand steady by your captain, let bombs and grapeshot fly,
Trust in God your saviour, but keep the powder dry.
Track Name: Gower Wassail
Please to see the King/Gower Wassail
A-wassail, a-wassail, throughout all the town.
Our cup it is white and our ale it is brown.
Our wassail is made of the good ale and true,
Some nutmeg and ginger, it’s the best we can do.
Fol the dol, the dol-de-dol,
Fol the dol-de-dol, fol the dol-de-dee,
Fol the dero, fol the daddy,
Sing tu-re-lye-do!

Our wassail is made of the elderberry bough
And so, my good neighbour, we’ll drink unto thou;
Besides all of that, you’ll have apples in store,
Pray let us come in for its cold by the door.
Fol the dol, . . . &c.

There’s a master and a mistress sitting down by the fire,
While we poor wassailers do wait in the mire,
And if we’re alive for another new year,
Perhaps we may call and see who doth live here.
Fol the dol, . . . &c.

We know by the moon that we are not too soon,
We know by the sky that we are not too high,
We know by the stars that we are not too far,
We know by the ground that we are within sound.
Fol the dol, . . . &c.
Track Name: Lark in the Morning/Wild Geese at Night
Lark in the Morning, Wild Geese at Night
by Loralyn Coles

Refrain
Oh your whisper 'tis here in the still of the morn,
As the lark sings her song to the new risen day.
And I wake with a smile, feelin' you here beside me,
Then my heart breaks anew, for you're far, far away.

‘Twas a cruel game they played when they gave ye one choice,
To join British ranks or to leave Irish land,
And tho' some gladly turned, you'd be less of a man,
If you faced your own friends with a sword in your hand.

Refrain

So we get through the day, tho' ‘tis hard and ‘tis cold,
And the whispers ‘round town seem to grow toward night,
And I watch with the rest for the Wild Geese, a-hoping
‘Tis not your own soul coming home with this flight.

Refrain
Track Name: Qu'avez-vous, oui, Belle Blonde?
Qu'avez-vous, Oui, Belle Blonde?(What's up, pretty blonde?)

Je m'endors, je m'endors et j'ai soif et j'ai faim.
Le soleil est couché et tu viens loin de la maison.
Qu'avez-vous, oui belle blonde? Qu'avez-vous, oui belle brune?
C'est tous pour les blondes; c'est rien pour les brunes.

O les gens de Crowley sont toujours dans le chemin,
Sont toujours dans le chemin-z à rechercher-z à mal faire.
Avec le jug de plombeau et le ferail dans la poche,
Sont toujours dans le chemin-z à rechercher-z à mal faire.

Je m'endors, je m'endors et j'ai soif et j'ai faim.
Le soleil est couché et tu viens loin de la maison.
Bye-bye, oui belle blonde, bye-bye, oui belle brune:
C'est tous pour les blondes; c'est rien pour les brunes.
Track Name: J'ai Vu Le Loup
J’Ai Vu Le Loup (I Saw the Wolf)
J’ai vû le loup, le r’nard, le lièvre
J’ai vû le loup, le r’nard, cheuler.
C’est moi-même qui les ai r’beuillés

J’ai ouï le loup, le r’nard, le lièvre
J’ai ouï le loup, le r’nard chanter.
C’est moi-même qui les ai r’chignés

J’ai vû le loup, le r’nard, le lièvre
J’ai vû le loup, le r’nard, danser.
C’est moi-même qui les ai r’virés
I saw the wolf, the fox, the hare,
I saw the wolf, the fox getting drunk.
And I myself bellowed back at them.

Translation:
I heard the wolf, the fox, the hare,
I heard the wolf, the fox sing
And I myself scowled back at them.

I saw the wolf, the fox, the hare,
I saw the wolf, the fox getting drunk.
And I myself spun them around.
Track Name: Donald MacGillavry
Donald MacGillavry

Donald's gane up the hill, hard and hungry,
Donald's gane doon the hill, wild and angry,
Donald will clear the gauk's nest cleverly,
Here's tae the king an' tae Donald MacGillavry.

Come like a weighbauk, Donald MacGillavry,
Come like a weighbauk, Donald MacGillavry,
Balance them fair, and balance them cleverly,
Off wi' the counterfeit, Donald MacGillavry.

Donald's ran o'er the hill, but his tether, man,
As he were wud, or stang'd wi' an adder, man,
When he's come back, there's mony'll look merrily,
Here's tae King James an' tae Donald MacGillavry.

Come like a weaver, Donald MacGillavry,
Come like a weaver, Donald MacGillavry,
Pack on your back, an' elwand sae cleverly,
Here's tae the king an' tae Donald MacGillavry.

Donald has foughten wi' rief an' roguery,
Donald has dinner'd wi' banes an' beggary,
Better it were for Whigs an' Whiggery,
Meetin' the de'il than Donald MacGillavry.

Come like a tailor, Donald MacGillavry,
Come like a tailor, Donald MacGillavry,
Push aboot, in an' oot, an' thimble them cleverly,
Here's tae King James an' tae Donald MacGillavry.

Donald's the callan that brooks nae tangleness,
Whiggin' an' priggin' an' a' newfangleness,
They maun be gane, he winna' be baukit, man,
He maun ha'e justice or faith, he'll take it man!

Come like a cobbler, Donald MacGillavry,
Come like a cobbler, Donald MacGillavry,
Beat them an' bore them an' lingel them cleverly,
Up wi' King James an' wi' Donald MacGillavry.

Donald was mumpit wi' mirds o' mockery,
Donald was blinded wi' blads o' property,
Arles ran high, but makins were naething, man,
Lord, how Donald is flytin' an' frettin', man'

Come like the de'il, Donald MacGillavry,
Come like the de'il, Donald MacGillavry,
Skelp them an' scaud them that proved sae unbritherly,
Up wi' King James an' wi' Donald MacGillavry!
Track Name: Where Are You Going
Where Are You Going?

Where are you going, my pretty maid,
With your rosy red cheeks and your curling black hair?
I'm going milking, kind sir she said,
Roving in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.

Shall I go with you?
Oh yes you may.

What if I lay with you?
With that I do agree.

What if a child should then be yours?
Why then that child shall also be yours.

"What should we do for a cradle?" he said.
My brother's a carpenter by his trade.

What shall we clothe him in?
Sir I can weave and also can spin.
Track Name: Dacw 'Ngariad i Lawr yn y Berllan
Dacw ‘Nghariad y Lawr yn y Berllan
(There's my Love Down in the Orchard)

Dacw ‘nghariad y lawr yn y berllan,
Tw-rym-di ro-rym-di-ra-dl-i-dl-al.
O na Bawn i y-no fy hunan,
Tw-rym-di ro-rym-di-ra-dl-i-dl-al.
Dacw'r t , a dacw'r sgubor,
Dacw ddrws y beudy'n agor.
Ffal-di-ra-dl-i-dl-al, Ffal-di-ra-dl-i-dl-al,
Tw-rym-di-ro, rym-di-ra-dl-i-dl-al.

Dacw'r dderwen wych ganghennog,
Golwg arni sydd dra serchog:
Mi arhosaf dan ei chysgod
Nes daw ‘nghariad i'nghyfarfod.

Dacw'r delyn, dacw'r tannau,
Beth wyf well heb neb i'w chwarae?
Dacw'r feinwen hoenus fanwl,-
Beth wyf nes heb gael meddwl?
© 2003 Barnaby Productions Inc.
Track Name: Voici Le Mois de Mai
Refrain
Jamais je n'aurais mon âge de quinze ans.
Jamais je n'aurais mon amour de vingt ans.

Voici le mois de mai où les fleurs volent au vent.
Le fils du roi d'Espagne s'en va les ramassant.
Il en ramassa tant qu'll en mis plein ses gants.
Il s'en va les porter a celle qu'il aimait tant.
Tenez voici, ma mie, tenez voici des gants.
Et vous n'les porterez que deux, trois fois par an,
La fête de la Pentecôte et la fête de Saint Jean,
Le jour de notre noces qui sera le plus grand.

Translation:
I will never be fifteen again.
I will never have a lover of twenty again.

It is the month of May when the flowers fly in the wind.
The son of the King of Spain picks them up.
He collects as many as he can fill his gloves with.
He takes them to the one he loves.
Take them, my dearest, take these gloves.
You will only wear them two or three times a year,
At Pentecost and the Feast of St. John,
The day of our wedding, which will be the greatest.
Track Name: Te Traa Goll Thie
Te Traa Goll Thie

Te traa goll thie, as goll dy lhie
Ta'n stoyll ta foym griennagh mee roym
She cowrey dooin dy ghleashagh
Te tayrn dys traa ny liabbagh

My Ghuillyn vie, shegin dooin goll thie
Ta'n dooid cheet er y chiollagh
Te geignagh shin dy gholl dy lhie
Te bunnys traa dy ghraa, Oie-vie

Translation:
It's time to go home and go to rest
My stool is making me want to rise
This is a sign that we should move
Drawing us nearer to bed-time.

Come, my good lads, for we must away
Darkness draws in upon the hearth
Telling us all we must go to rest
The time for saying Good Night