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MORRIGAN'S WAKE 5/19 The Wind That Shakes the Barley -Mama's Ravenna 06-02-2010

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Published on Feb 9, 2010

MORRIGAN'S WAKE live al Mama's Ravenna 06-02-2010
Tiziana Ferretti: Voce, Bodhran Barbara Mortarini: Flauto dolce, Contralto, Tin whistle Davide Castiglia: Violino, Nyckelharpa François Gobbi: Basso elettrico Maurizio Lumini: Fisarmonica Massimo Pirini: Voce, Chitarra
musica celtica del nord Europa e celtico-padana danze bretoni e ballate della resistenza irlandese Scozia, Galles Irlanda ballate e danze scoto-irlandesi, jigs, reels, polke, hornpipes
tin whistle, bass guitar, accordion, bodhrán, flute, fiddle, nyckelharpa guitar
morriganswake.com
mamasclub.it
The Wind that Shakes the Barley è una ballata irlandese di Robert Dwyer Joyce che si ispirò alla rivolta del 1798 dei rivoluzionari irlandesi di ispirazione repubblicana contro la dominazione inglese. E una canzone che in qualche modo inneggia alla resistenza. Il titolo della canzone fu preso a prestito da Ken Loach, anche se la rivolta descritta da Loach è quella del 1922 che portò a una prima indipendenza dellIrlanda.
Testo di "The Wind That Shakes the Barley"
I sat within a valley green
I sat me with my true love
My sad heart strove to choose between
The old love and the new love
The old for her, the new that made
Me think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glade
And shook the golden barley
Twas hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us
But harder still to bear the shame
Of foreign chains around us
And so I said, "The mountain glen
I'll seek at morning early
And join the bold United Men
While soft winds shake the barley"
While sad I kissed away her tears
My fond arms 'round her flinging
The foeman's shot burst on our ears
From out the wildwood ringing
A bullet pierced my true love's side
In life's young spring so early
And on my breast in blood she died
While soft winds shook the barley
I bore her to some mountain stream
And many's the summer blossom
I placed with branches soft and green
About her gore-stained bosom
I wept and kissed her clay-cold corpse
Then rushed o'er vale and valley
My vengeance on the foe to wreak
While soft winds shook the barley
But blood for blood without remorse
I've taken at Oulart Hollow
And laid my true love's clay-cold corpse
Where I full soon may follow
As 'round her grave I wander drear
Noon, night and morning early
With breaking heart when e'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley

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