I was 12 years old when we got our first B&W TV about Summer 1965. Séamus Ennis had an early evening program (Down The Garden Path) on Teilifís Éireann where he would relate folk stories and play tunes on his Uilleann Pipes. Great Stuff! Ar dheis Dé 😇go raibh a h-anam dílis/RIP!👼Ní bheidh a leithéad ann arís!
It was Seamus Ennis and young Thomas Keenan who were my main influences for my style of Irish whistle playing when I was young, in my teens and twenties. I didn't have a huge repertoire because I couldn't read music, but as Paddy O'Brien of Offaly once told me, I had "the good ones". For a few years, though, I had a rather fierce style developing. The way I understood whistle playing from the piping inspired whistle players like Seamus and Thomas was that they didn't tongue the notes, everything was defined by the fingers and the breath, so you had to play fairly fast and very sure of yourself. Lots of grace notes, rolls, double rolls and cranns, just like the pipes. That's the way Seamus is playing here.
The William Holmes Sullivan painting, which you'll see around 1:22, Dance Of The Little People, features a very happy man playing a set of bellows blown Pastoral Pipes, with three drones. A few modern uilleann pipe makers have tried to make them, I believe. I don't know if there are existing sets for them to have copied from.
Thanks for the comment Liz. There is a dedicated pastoral community, they even have a Facebook group! More info on the instrument here - en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pastoral_pipes
I have a vague suspicion that Séamus Ennis heard or read the English tale of Master of All Masters collected by Joseph Jacobs and published by David Nutt in 1898, which he adapted for his own use. There's another Scots version of this story called the Clever Apprentice that was collected from a Mr Copeland, a schoolmaster from Tyrie in Aberdeenshire and published by W. Gregor in 1889 in the Folk-Lore Journal.
Seo dhuit, a chara - This is definitely a story based on historical fact. In the old times in Ireland, you know, there were what we called the Hiring Fairs. That's where a boy or a girl would go to the Hiring Fair to hire out with a farmer as a farmer's servant or a dairy maid, or a lad just as a farmer's servant round the yard, and helping him with his work on the land. And this little girl went to the Hiring Fair one day. And what they used to do was stand in a line, all day. Nowadays, they'd call it a queue. But she stood there all day, and every boy and girl in the whole line was taken and she was left there alone. And nobody had hired her. And she was thinking of going home and telling her parents that nobody hired her. And a funny little man came up to her, with a cocked hat on him. Now you wouldn't believe it but this cocked hat was coloured pink. And he had a jacket with brass buttons on it, and that was coloured a bright vivid blue. And he had a pair of knee breeches on him that were coloured emerald green. And he had a pair of yellow stockings on him up to the top of his knee breeches. And a pair of beautiful shiny brown boots on him, and he had a big moustache like the handlebars of a bicycle and a beard that was reaching down to the brass buckle of his belt
And he said, "Did nobody take you little girl ?" "No sir," she said. "Well, would you come home with me, little girl ?" "Well sir," she said, "the way it is, my parents told me to arrange how much I'd be paid for my service with you." - because these were contracts for six months. And.....ah, he felt her biceps, and he said, "You're a strong little girl, I'll pay you well." Well they travelled up a high hill and down into a low valley, between green hedges and ditches. And they left the hard road and turned down to the soft road, between green hedges and ditches. And they came then to a place where there were trees growing both sides of the road - what you'd call in literature : a sylvan tunnel. And when they came out of the sylvan tunnel, the road took a sharp turn to the left, and they came into a clearing. And there was the most comfortable little thatched cottage you ever saw.
"What do you call that, little girl ?" he said. "Ah, the hut or the house or whatever you please, sir." "No, no," he said, "that's the Great Castle of Strawbungle."" He took a big iron key out of his pocket and he opened the door and went in. And he threw a battle (?) of turf on the fire. "What do you call that, little girl ?" "That - the hot or the heat or whatever you please, sir." "No," he said, "that's hot cockalorum." The next thing, the cat came in and stretched by the fire. "What do you call that, little girl ?" "That's a kit or the cat or whatever you please, sir." "Oh no," he said, "that's white-faced simminy." "And," she said, "if I may make so bold, what do I call you, sir ?" "Oh, my name is Don Nipiri Septo," he said, "and I think we'll put on the kettle and we'll make tea." And you can picture her, dutiful little girl that she was, over to the crock of water with the pannikin, filling the kettle. "What do you call that, little girl ?" "That's the wet or the water or whatever you please, sir." "No," he said, that's pondalorum."
And she hung the kettle on the crane over the fire. And he then took off his boots. His feet were tired after walking the whole day through the fair, and, "What do you call those, little girl ?" "Your boots, your brogues, whatever you please, sir." "No," he said, "they're my hey-down feathers." And then he rattled the knee of his knee-breeches. And, "What do you call those, little girl ?" "Ah, your breeches, your breeks, whatever you please,sir." "No," he said, "they're my fortune's crackers." And he said, "now while we're waiting for the kettle to boil, I'll show you upstairs where you're going to sleep. I'll show you your room where you're going to live for the next six months. And going up the stairs, he said, "what do you call these, little girl ?" "Ah, the steps or the stairs or whatever you please, sir," she said. "No," he said, "that's the wooden hill." And he threw open the door at the top of the stairs and he showed her her bed and her room. "What do you call that, little girl ?" "Oh, the bed or the bunk or whatever you please, sir." "No," he said, "that's the barnacle."
And they had their supper and milked the cow and locked up and away to bed for the night. In the middle of the night, there was a knock on his door. "What's wrong, little girl ?" he said. "Raise up from your barnacle, Don Nipiri Septo. Put on your fortune's crackers and your hey-down feathers and come down the wooden hill, because white-faced simminy has a spark of hot cockalorum on the tail. If we don't pour pondalorum on it quick the Great Castle of Strawbungle will be on hot cockalorum. Now, I knew that little girl years later, and whenever we'd be playing music, we'd have to be careful not to play 'The Smokey House,' because if we did, she'd run a mile. So we never played it after we found out that she was allergic to this reel. Sin é.
I was 12 years old when we got our first B&W TV about Summer 1965. Séamus Ennis had an early evening program (Down The Garden Path) on Teilifís Éireann where he would relate folk stories and play tunes on his Uilleann Pipes. Great Stuff! Ar dheis Dé 😇go raibh a h-anam dílis/RIP!👼Ní bheidh a leithéad ann arís!
It was Seamus Ennis and young Thomas Keenan who were my main influences for my style of Irish whistle playing when I was young, in my teens and twenties. I didn't have a huge repertoire because I couldn't read music, but as Paddy O'Brien of Offaly once told me, I had "the good ones". For a few years, though, I had a rather fierce style developing. The way I understood whistle playing from the piping inspired whistle players like Seamus and Thomas was that they didn't tongue the notes, everything was defined by the fingers and the breath, so you had to play fairly fast and very sure of yourself. Lots of grace notes, rolls, double rolls and cranns, just like the pipes. That's the way Seamus is playing here.
Quality, not quantity, as my Secondary School French Teacher used to write on my corrected Essays! 😆
What an amazing story teller!
The William Holmes Sullivan painting, which you'll see around 1:22, Dance Of The Little People, features a very happy man playing a set of bellows blown Pastoral Pipes, with three drones. A few modern uilleann pipe makers have tried to make them, I believe. I don't know if there are existing sets for them to have copied from.
Thanks for the comment Liz. There is a dedicated pastoral community, they even have a Facebook group! More info on the instrument here - en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pastoral_pipes
@@PDarcy Thank you!
@@inlandonline did anyone ever make them?
Wonderful
Wonderful!
I have a vague suspicion that Séamus Ennis heard or read the English tale of Master of All Masters collected by Joseph Jacobs and published by David Nutt in 1898, which he adapted for his own use. There's another Scots version of this story called the Clever Apprentice that was collected from a Mr Copeland, a schoolmaster from Tyrie in Aberdeenshire and published by W. Gregor in 1889 in the Folk-Lore Journal.
I’d say you’re on to something there 👍🏻
where do ye get this stuff, ar abhais ar fad
Seo dhuit, a chara -
This is definitely a story based on historical fact.
In the old times in Ireland, you know, there were what we called the Hiring Fairs.
That's where a boy or a girl would go to the Hiring Fair
to hire out with a farmer as a farmer's servant or a dairy maid,
or a lad just as a farmer's servant round the yard,
and helping him with his work on the land.
And this little girl went to the Hiring Fair one day.
And what they used to do was stand in a line, all day.
Nowadays, they'd call it a queue.
But she stood there all day, and every boy and girl in the whole line was taken
and she was left there alone.
And nobody had hired her.
And she was thinking of going home and telling her parents that nobody hired her.
And a funny little man came up to her, with a cocked hat on him.
Now you wouldn't believe it but this cocked hat was coloured pink.
And he had a jacket with brass buttons on it, and that was coloured a bright vivid blue.
And he had a pair of knee breeches on him that were coloured emerald green.
And he had a pair of yellow stockings on him up to the top of his knee breeches.
And a pair of beautiful shiny brown boots on him,
and he had a big moustache like the handlebars of a bicycle
and a beard that was reaching down to the brass buckle of his belt
And he said, "Did nobody take you little girl ?"
"No sir," she said.
"Well, would you come home with me, little girl ?"
"Well sir," she said, "the way it is,
my parents told me to arrange how much I'd be paid for my service with you."
- because these were contracts for six months.
And.....ah, he felt her biceps,
and he said, "You're a strong little girl, I'll pay you well."
Well they travelled up a high hill and down into a low valley, between green hedges and ditches.
And they left the hard road and turned down to the soft road, between green hedges and ditches.
And they came then to a place where there were trees growing both sides of the road -
what you'd call in literature : a sylvan tunnel.
And when they came out of the sylvan tunnel, the road took a sharp turn to the left,
and they came into a clearing.
And there was the most comfortable little thatched cottage you ever saw.
"What do you call that, little girl ?" he said.
"Ah, the hut or the house or whatever you please, sir."
"No, no," he said, "that's the Great Castle of Strawbungle.""
He took a big iron key out of his pocket and he opened the door and went in.
And he threw a battle (?) of turf on the fire.
"What do you call that, little girl ?"
"That - the hot or the heat or whatever you please, sir."
"No," he said, "that's hot cockalorum."
The next thing, the cat came in and stretched by the fire.
"What do you call that, little girl ?"
"That's a kit or the cat or whatever you please, sir."
"Oh no," he said, "that's white-faced simminy."
"And," she said, "if I may make so bold, what do I call you, sir ?"
"Oh, my name is Don Nipiri Septo," he said,
"and I think we'll put on the kettle and we'll make tea."
And you can picture her, dutiful little girl that she was,
over to the crock of water with the pannikin, filling the kettle.
"What do you call that, little girl ?"
"That's the wet or the water or whatever you please, sir."
"No," he said, that's pondalorum."
And she hung the kettle on the crane over the fire.
And he then took off his boots.
His feet were tired after walking the whole day through the fair,
and, "What do you call those, little girl ?"
"Your boots, your brogues, whatever you please, sir."
"No," he said, "they're my hey-down feathers."
And then he rattled the knee of his knee-breeches.
And, "What do you call those, little girl ?"
"Ah, your breeches, your breeks, whatever you please,sir."
"No," he said, "they're my fortune's crackers."
And he said, "now while we're waiting for the kettle to boil,
I'll show you upstairs where you're going to sleep.
I'll show you your room where you're going to live for the next six months.
And going up the stairs, he said, "what do you call these, little girl ?"
"Ah, the steps or the stairs or whatever you please, sir," she said.
"No," he said, "that's the wooden hill."
And he threw open the door at the top of the stairs and he showed her her bed and her room.
"What do you call that, little girl ?"
"Oh, the bed or the bunk or whatever you please, sir."
"No," he said, "that's the barnacle."
And they had their supper and milked the cow and locked up and away to bed for the night.
In the middle of the night, there was a knock on his door.
"What's wrong, little girl ?" he said.
"Raise up from your barnacle, Don Nipiri Septo.
Put on your fortune's crackers and your hey-down feathers
and come down the wooden hill,
because white-faced simminy has a spark of hot cockalorum on the tail.
If we don't pour pondalorum on it quick
the Great Castle of Strawbungle will be on hot cockalorum.
Now, I knew that little girl years later,
and whenever we'd be playing music,
we'd have to be careful not to play 'The Smokey House,'
because if we did, she'd run a mile.
So we never played it after we found out that she was allergic to this reel.
Sin é.
@@franc9111 thanks for transcribing that! It's a
recitation that's always held me rapt!
the wooden hill
Got young kids? Play them this .
Sounds like Tom bombadil himself!