800 Voices
800 Voices echo, ’cross the gray playground
Shouts of fights and god knows what, I still can hear that sound
With their hobnail boots and rough tweeds , angry seas of brown and green
The toughest god forsaken bunch that I had ever seen
I was taken ’cross the schoolyard, in the cold December morn
Through the games of ball and the wrestling kids, all fighting to stay warm
There I handed in my trousers and my khaki gabardine
Fare well to the last reminders of a home in smithereens
Well, they marched us down to breakfast and they marched us up to bed
And the hobnail boots on the iron stairs was enough to wake the dead
And after mass on Sundays with the brass band playing fine
We would march with the rebel battle hymns sending shivers up your spine
“How long will you be here for ?” said the big lad on the wall
“I’ve got eight more years to go,“ said I, and he laughed till I thought he’d fall
“ Well I’m outa here next week, “ said he, “ but before your time is soon”
“There’ll be raisins in the holy communion, son, there’ll be walkin’ on the moon”
“I’ll be back for you this Christmas,” I could hear my mammy say
And the bitter truth within that lie I’ve yet to face today
When it gets too much for feeling you just bury it somehow
And that eight year old abandoned lad still waits for her right now
The Jesuits came round now and then to sing their songs of hell
And we’d be pissin’ in our breeches for we knew that place right well
But a spark of sweet devotion found me, it sings in my heart still
But it took me years to shake the guilt of the cross upon the hill
Mark black for the Christian Brothers for the fear of life and death
Mark black for their straps of leather that stole away my breath
But one was like a father; hard as nails but soft inside
Thanks to brother Joe O’Connor for the music strength and pride
But it wasn’t all hard going there was friendship deep and long
And to tell the truth I was better off than I ever was at home
And the memories now are bitter sweet, no blame no heavy load
The Bold Christian Brothers
Come all ye young lads from Cork and from Dublin
For Wexford and Limerick from Kerry and Clare
Jump out of them beds all ye lazy good for nothings
Mush into the washroom as quick as you care
Yer mothers and fathers abandoned yer hides and they left your upbringing to others
They couldn’t take care of yer ugly backsides
So you’ll do as your told ’cos your bodies and souls
Now belong to the bold Christian Brothers
Come all ye young lads line up for the breakfast
For a big mug ’o tay and cold porridge and bread
The bread may be stale and the tay without sugar
But none of youse ever have been better fed
Ya come with the hunger and hate in your eyes and the weight of the world on your shoulders
But you’ll leave with a trade and religion me boys
And you’ll do as your told ‘cos your bodies and souls
Now belong to the bold Christian Brothers
Come all ye young lads you hopeless forgotten
You bullies and bowsies you tinkers and thieves
It’s here that ye’ll learn to be waxies and weavers
And bakers and tailors all busy as bees
The big world outside is the devils back yard and it’s our job to lift you above her
So we’ll treat you like dirt just to keep you on guard
And you’ll do as your told ’cos your bodies and souls
Now belong to the bold Christian Brothers
Come all ye young lads it’s time for the harvest
March out of the north gates and in to the fields
It’s been a great year for potatoes and carrots
But cabbage and turnips have seen better yields
We’ll sack all the spuds and we’ll gather the hay and we’ll clean out the barns for the winter
And we’ll sing the ould songs and we’ll drink lemonade
And we’ll do as we’re told ’cos our bodies and souls
When Tommy Bonner Sang
Early Mass that first black Sunday, I’m not praying very hard
Then he sings the most beautiful solo Kyrie and rips my soul apart
And tears that I’d held back for days came pouring down like rain
It wasn’t hard to let it all go
When Tommy Bonner sang
Forbidden to look round us in church, but I didn’t have a choice
I had to see what kind of human being stood behind that angel voice
And in his eyes you saw the place where prayer first began
And you knew that God was listening
When Tommy Bonner sang
Chorus
Dark as any moonless night
Clean as morning dew
He sang as if to save his life while saving your life too
Well I never got to know him but I knew him just the same
Everybody knows you when you sing like Tommy sang
How cold it was that first long winter especially in the church
I remember how the radiator pipes froze up they said that they might burst
But even as your hands were swollen with red raw chilblains
Spring was just around the corner
When Tommy Bonner Sang
Repeat Chorus
Then one April Sunday morning early in the spring
I thought he must be sick with flu or something; he didn’t come to sing
And when the mass was over my heart fell to the floor
To hear that Tommy turned sixteen and left
And would sing at Mass no more
At first I felt again abandoned, deserted and betrayed
It seemed that everything I loved would run and leave me hear lonely and afraid
But there and then a seed was planted but I wish I'd felt back then
Just a small taste of the joy I'd find tryna sing like Tommy sang (Return to top)
Repeat Chorus
The Treasures of the Sons
The afternoon sun dipped behind the ball alley
I’m kickin’ a ball that I stole from O’Malley
O’Malley he got it from Bulger the Bully
For a battered lead soldier he took from Mick Scully
The Scull got the soldier from Martin McKeown
For a champion chestnut as hard as a stone
And McKeown got the chestnut from Badger McGee
And that hooligan stole it from me
Chorus
From pocket to pocket as fast as a rocket
Never mind where you got it from no one will ask
They’ll be yours for a minute then some one will rob it
Or you’ll swap it or drop it along the tall grass
They’re a bundle of fun but the never last long
The Treasures of the Sons
There were magnifying glasses to torture the ants
There were marbles that fell through a hole in your pants
There were motor car tires you could roll up inside
There were little glass stink bombs no nose could abide
Slingshots and arrows and forbidden things
There were trains without tracks there were planes without wings
You would hide them and horde them but try all you will
You couldn’t hold on to them still
Repeat Chorus
In a charity box on my first Christmas eve
I got half a tin hen from Hong Kong I believe
It was supposed to lay eggs when you pressed the legs down
But the eggs and the legs went to Peter McGowan
We fought for a minute or two over that till I swapped him my half for his old cowboy hat
Then he went laying eggs and I shot up the town
Repeat Chorus
The Artane Boys Band
Clarinets and trumpets, saxophones and drums
Trombones and tubas loud as cannon guns
Discarded by my family I was giving up the fight
But music made me hers that day adopted me for life
On the Sunday morning concrete my life in strangers hands
My soul was captured by the Artane Boys Band
Now Brother Joe O’Connor took a rusty battered horn, said;
“Fire away on this, lad, you won’t do it no harm”
As I tested out before him even then I must have known
Cos I blasted like my whole damn life was in that old trombone
Then he smiled for half a second and took me by the hand;
“Well done, boy, and welcome to the Artane Boys Band.”
Chorus
We played for Presidents and Cardinals, at festivals and balls
At football matches in the rain and musty old town halls
There was nothing in this wide world as glorious or grand
As the blast of freedom's yearning from the Artane Boys Band
Well, the Irish Christian brothers had a school in every town
We must’ve played a hundred times in each one up and down
And the good folks of the parish would open their doors
And fill us up with love and grub we’d never had before
Loved by everybody, welcomed cross the land
How could you be lonely in the Artane Boys Band?
Repeat Chorus
In sixty two they flew us out to Boston and New York
And my dad who lived in Brooklyn, well, he took the day off work
As he marched along beside us, a sad little man
Well I played so bloody loud I nearly blew the Guinness from his hand
Yeah, we made sure that the music was louder than the pain
And whatever got inside you, you just blew it out again
And when we stepped out in Croke Park to a hundred thousand roars
We blazed away like stallions running free on Curragh Moors
There was nothing in this wide world as Glorious or Grand
As the blast of freedom’s yearnin’ from the Artane Boys Band (Return to top)
Who Trew Da Boot?
Half past ten all the day's work was done
The dormitory lights were out all excepting one
A hundred lad and fifty were making not a peep
And McCarthy the night watchman was pretending not to sleep
In walks O’Reilly, the reason I’m awake
My good friend was a baker and he’s been working late
I saw he kept his promise with a loaf beneath his coat
And I’d been waiting half the night as hungry as a goat
O’Reilly screamed a whisper as he gave the bread a knock
"Ya got a corner loaf Dan, it’s harder than a rock
He threw it 'cross the bedrows, said, “catch it if you can”
Well I missed it and it landed with a God almighty bang
Up jumps McCarthy, droopy as a drake
Famous as an idiot when fully wide awake
Twenty years a watchman, sixty years a fool
As tough as he was stupid and as stubborn as a mule
And then he said the funniest thing I ever heard
“Who Trew Da Boot?”
I laughed till I was hoarse
O’Reilly grabs the loaf of bread stifling the roars
“Who Trew Da Boot?”
The place was in a roar
The night O’Reilly’s loaf of bread nearly broke the floor
A hundred lads and fifty were warming to the joke,
McCarthy’s running round the room working on a stroke
“Yer just a bunch of numbers!” McCarthy spoke the truth
For each lad had a number stamped upon his boot
Then the logic of the innocent, impossible to fault
Hit the bold McCarthy like a shot of single malt
“First I’ll find the boot” said he, ‘That’ll end the farce,”
“Then I’ll have his number, then I’ll kick his bloody arse”
“Alright, I’m givin’ you one more chance boys”
“Who Trew Da Boot?”
I laughed till I was hoarse
O’Reilly grabs the loaf of bread stifling the roars
“Who Trew Da Boot?”
The place was in a roar
The night O’Reilly’s loaf of bread nearly broke the floor
In that awful institution order was a vice
And boots were kept in boot rooms there was not a boot in sight
But confident of victory, righteous in his cause
McCarthy searched till morning for the boot that never was
Now, down through the years as I tell this tale anew
I must admit it grows a bit but most of it is true
And whenever awful memories raise their ugly heads
I still can see McCarthy crawlin’ underneath the beds
I hear him say, “Ah, someone’s gonna pay now”
Who Trew da Boot?
Those immortal words still can get me going have me howling like a horse
Who Trew da Boot
I’m laughing all the more
Music for a friend
I was always a little downhearted
Tonight I am worse and I feel justified
I’ve just been thrown out of the band for a fight with young Andy McBride
O’Driscoll said “Why are ya crying?”
In charge of the kitchen, he’s a bad tempered man
I told him a life without music for me, is a life without a friend
An’ I’ve lost one good chance and you don’t get another
I’ll never play those
Heart breakin’ melodies again
He said; “Work hard son, you’ll be grand
That kind of stuff is all pretend
Strong men don’t need
Music For a Friend
I’m working’ late in the kitchen
The whole world’s asleep as I cross the ball park
I make the sign of the cross as I pass by the church in the dark
I stop and gaze at the starlight
My breath rises up like a bird from a cage
Suddenly all of the stars in the sky come alive in a blaze
An’ I’m lost in a trance
And it’s then that I hear them ....... singing to me
Heartbreaking melodies above
Down from the stars out of this world
Till now that secret has remained
But I knew back then I had
Music for a Friend
I’m peeling spuds in the kitchen
I’m singing away at some song that I’ve heard
O’Driscoll he creeps up behind me, listening, not saying a word
When I turn around he is frowning
Surprisingly kind for a bad tempered man
He said; “Let me speak to O’Connor, the brother in charge of the band
“He might let ya back in
“‘cos that’s where ya belong son, go back and play your
“Heartbreaking Melodies all day
Your daft as eggs but that’s OK
That kind of madness does no harm”
And I had top agree there, cos now I know that
God gives these melodies to us
It’s almost like he dresses up
Puts on a suit we’ll understand so we can have
The Twist within the Tweed
My name is Patrick Joseph Quirk I’m an Artane weaver
Break of day I march to work and work till day is over
I shuttle tweed in looms that groan like torture racks
The clicks and clacks that haunt my dreaming
My mammy was a chambermaid in the Gresham Hotel
My daddy worked the kitchen trade in that same place as well
I was their accident, no wedding blessed my birth
No home on earth no proud relations
Chorus
And when you look at me the tall strong lad is only half the truth
You see the cloth but not the weave, the warp and weft of history
Come close and see theTtwist within the Tweed
Today I’ll leave this roll of cloth to the tailors fingers
There’s half a chance some silly sod will burn the thing to cinders
Oh, I take pride in this though why I’ll never know
I’ve naught to show for all my labors
Chorus
And when you look at me the tall strong lad is only half the truth
You see the cloth but not the weave, the warp and weft of history
Come close and see the twist within the tweed
But still I think I’m better off than some of my brothers
I’m blessed with not one memory of the touch of a loving mother
But some of these poor lads are old enough to miss
The treacherous kiss that sent them packing
Chorus
And when you look at us tall strong lads; “Well aren’t they marvelous!”
But with each blessed breath we breathe we fight like hell so no one sees
The anger and the need, the wound too deep to bleed
The Stolen Child
(From the poem by WB Yeats. Original Music by Danny Ellis)
Where dips the rocky highland of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats; there we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries and of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses the dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses we foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances, mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight; to and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles, while the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes from the hills above Glen-Car,.
In pools among the rushes that scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout and whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams; leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears over the young streams.
Come away, O human child! To waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand, For to world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going, the solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For be comes, the human child, to the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand, from a world more full of weeping than you can understand.
Kelly’s Gone Missin’
Kelly’s gone missin’ they say he went runnin’
Away ’cross the fields like a shot from a gun
He was walking along in the afternoon sun
When it entered his mind he’d be better off somewhere else
He was seen by O’Mara who told Brother Cummings
Who gathered a posse and off they went runnin’
And shoutin’ and screamin’ the summer sun gleamin’
Above the hedge rows and the green fields of Erin
Kelly’s gone missin’ they say he was playin’
Relieve - ee - aye - o with some lads over yonder
And when he went runnin sure nobody noticed at all till the game it was totally over
He was laughing and joking at Mass just this morning
Till Brother McKeown slyly crept up behind him
And whispered a catholic curse in his ear
Ah well, honest to goodness no wonder he’s outa here
Ah Kelly’s gone missin’ and soon he was seen
To the north and the south and all points in between
And the posse has swollen to 300 rollin’
Along the hedgerows and the green fields of Erin
And poor Brother Cummings is pulling his hair out
He’s started a riot and hopeless to stop it
An the whole school’s runnin’ in every direction
’Cos Kelly’s gone missin’…. he’s dead if they catch him
Kelly’s gone missin’ now what was he thinking
His mother and father will just send him back again
Four other brothers and five other sisters
Not one of them working
Summer Sandals
As black as midnight was the fear
Always there behind the hunger
I learnt the hard way God is here
Spitting flames and firing anger
When someone said don’t waste your breath
I thought it meant my breaths were numbered
And when they’re gone you’ll just be dead
Like a flower outa water
And so I’d lie awake at night
And hold my breath to save my life
A cobblers curse on hobnail boots;
Leather buckets round your ankles
You’ll hear them coming that’s the truth;
Metal heels all jingle jangle
But pails of water we had tossed
Like a river down the playground
Has frozen up in last night’s frost
And now the boots are great to skate on
We’ll slide the damn things into the ground
And hold our breath as we fall down
But summer sandals soft and easy will set my feet to fly
At last I’ll feel the grass beneath me and it springs back as I pass by
In summer sandals light as paper I’ll hardly touch the ground
Ah now. That’s what feet are made for; runnin’ free and flyin’ round
Thank god the summer’s nearly here
Most are off to friends and families
The rest of us will stay right here
Making friends of bitter enemies
We’ll ride the rails to ’Marnock Strand
And sing “Last train to San Fernando”
We’ll fight on dunes of silver sands;
Errol Flynn and Marlon Brandos
They’ll line us up like knights of old
And when that silver whistle blows
We’ll rush to sea like it was gold
Idle Dan ( As easy as can be!)
Today I have a job it isn’t very pleasant
Look in every shop and ask if all are present
And if a lad is gone collect a note of absence
Then the missin’ one would likely need an ambulance
And little Johnnie Keogh a tailor lad I knew had gotten sick this morning
They took him down to the infirmary
But the man in charge the tailor shop said “All in here are present,” though he knew
That little Johnny Keogh was miles away
Call me Idle Dan I’m goin’ about me business
Doin’ all I can and tryin' to make me life as
Easy as can be
Always looking out for ways to fool the system
The Johnny Keogh affair was like a jewel of wisdom
Seems that if a lad reported sick at morning
And missed the afternoon no one would raise the warning
Then I could abscond to boating and a fishing at the Quarry Pond on Pirate Ships
And not a note of absence would be written
Little did I care the fish were only minnows and the pirate ships at my command
Only discarded grand pianos
Call me Idle Dan I’m goin’ about me business
Doin’ all I can and tryin' to make me life as
Easy as can be
That’s when I became an expert on diseases
Ones that made you lame and ones that made you famous
Nothing that a nurse or stethoscope could measure
Then I’d set me course for afternoons of leisure
I’d be Robin Hood or maybe Hiawatha, chimney sweeping rod and feathered sticks
Would be my deadly bow ’n arrah
Huckleberry Finn along the Mississippi couldn’t teach a thing or hold a candle
To Black Daniel of the Liffey
Call me Idle Dan I’m goin’ about me business
Doin’ all I can and tryin' to make me life as
Easy as can be
That’s when Brother Mackey caught me fair and square
He shouldn’t have been there he should a been at prayers
Keeping that in mind I then confessed my secret
Hoping all the time that rascal he would keep it
I told him of me plan and how well it was working how I’d slip away each month or two
And no one had a clue what I was doin’
Then that decent man when he finished laughin’ took a Crunchie from his pocket
And we sat there munchin’ in the afternoon
Call me Idle Dan I’m goin’ about me business
Doin’ all I can and tryin' to make me life as
Let me be lonely
Let me be lonely
Don’t try to cheer or console me
Won’t you let me lie awhile inside of the sorry my soul is showing me
I’ll be your true friend
I’ll stand beside you when all hope ends
Ah, but when the Angeles bell strikes twelve in that silence I know I’m on my own
I’ll run with the hundreds
I’ll bathe in the comfort of their voices
Ah, but when we sing those songs of freedom and longing my heart will fly away
Repeat Chorus
I’m not a rebel
I’m not a rogue or a criminal
Ah, but if you steal my spirit don’t be surprised if my eyes they are not shining
Repeat Chorus
Deep to the marrow
So cuts a best friend’s arrow
Oh, but even deeper cuts the glace of a fellow who knows that friendship goes
Let me be lonely
Don’t try to cheer or console me
Won’t you let me lie awhile inside of the sorry my soul is showing me (Return to top)
Briseann an Duchas tre Shuilbh an Cait !
( The Breeding breaks out through the Eyes of a Cat!)
The boys who work the kitchen fill their bellies;
All the grub they can hold
But when I asked if I could work there it was only
To get of the cold!
And they called us the Maniumers
For the lard that was matted into our clothes
But we’ll carry deeper marks than that inside
That only god himself knows
Under the shelter by the churchyard
Me and Blawka playin’ cards
He’s my best pal but he’s leaving in the morning and I’m taking it hard
He’ll be no more that cobbler scrubbin’ boot stain
From his hands every day
But he’ll carry deeper marks than that inside
That won’t soon wash away …. like they say;
Chorus
Briseann an Duchas tre Shuilbh an Cait!
The breeding breaks out through the eyes
Through the eyes of a cat!
Carney holds his pencil in a queer way;
He’s only got half a thumb
He left the other half behind him in the wood shop they swept it up with a broom
And meself I’ve got cuts and scars from fightin’
And a bent sideways nose
But I’ll carry deeper marks than that inside me
wherever I goes ..And I’ll know that
Repeat Chorus
You may learn how to wheel and deal and bargain
Who to bribe and who to fight
But there’ll be something deep inside that no cunning will ever put right
For the lessons that you learn in fear and strife
Won’t stand up to life’s test
And you’ll spend the rest of your life unlearning
All the things you learnt the best …. And you’ll know that;
Radio
I got a radio
Fits in my pocket you know
Hold it right up to my ear
Nobody else can hear
It’s got a two foot aerial
It’s got Elvis and Rock ‘n Roll
Now I don’t care anymore
‘Cos I know a secret door
I got a radio
The football acre was covered with snow
They’d split the school in half and lined us sp ten deep
Behind these goalposts
Ahh there’s gonna be a battle
Yeah they’re gonna make us fight
And I don’t know if I shakin’ from the cold or from the fright
Ahh but I got a radio
Fits in my pocket you know
Hold it right up to my ear
Nobody else can hear
It’s got a three foot aerial
It’s got Elvis and Rock ‘n Roll
Now I don’t care anymore
‘Cos I know a secret door
I got a radio
Me and Joe McDonald, we’re up in a tree
We’re puffing away on a Woodbine cigarette
And he passes it to me
But I slip and I lose my balance just as Brother McCrutten passes by
Then he grins his evil grin and slaps his leg and says
“You two meet me in the boot room after lights out tonight”
Ahh but I got a radio
Fits in my pocket you know
Hold it right up to my ear
Nobody else can hear
It’s got a six foot aerial
It’s got Elvis and Rock ‘n Roll
Now I don’t care anymore
‘Cos I know a secret door
The Day I left Artane
On the eighteenth day of a warm July in nineteen sixty three
I climbed into the new flannel trousers the tailors made for me
Then I handed over the tattered old shirts and the tweeds that bore my name
I was glad to see the last of them the day I left Artane
Every thing that I then possessed I stuffed in one small case
All but the clothes on my skinny frame and the frown upon my face
But I felt no lack nothing holding me back, no fear for future’s flame
I was much too strong for that carry on the day I left Artane
“What’s your mother’s maiden name,” the clerk was so discreet
“It was Constance Mary McIvor,” said I, “Born and reared on Gardiner Street”
He went rifling through his big ledger book till he frowned and said, “That’s strange”
“Are you ready boy fro a final surprise.” said he, the day I left Artane
He let me look through that secret book like it was god’s own diary
Well I’d known the brothers McIvor for years, but it never dawned on me
But there in the book in a spidery scrawl underneath my mother’s name
I found my lost half brothers on the day I left Artane
I remember the storm when those twins were born; ‘cos my dad had been gone for a year
He’s set sail for America’s shore, saving up to bring us there
But the birth of the boys tore the family apart in a scattering wind of shame
Ah, but I was free from that irony the day I left Artane
I ran through droves of screaming kids, my breath heaved like the wind
Then I found my brothers and blurted out the tale and we all shook hands and grinned
And we stood there shrugging, winking and nodding no one wondering who’s to blame
Then we said goodbye ‘neath a wider sky the day I left Artane
Some lads upstairs on the bus into town were singing Beatle songs
And I sat down beside them all red in the face, too shy to sing along
Then a storm burst over the Malahide Road dropping absolution’s rain
And I joined with the boys in that holy noise the day I left Artane (Return to top)
