Get all 12 Trouble or Fortune Records releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Bleak is the Pampa (single), The Pampa's My Home (single), Fire and Foam, "Macalla Chill Áirne" film soundtrack, Ordinary Surface (single), Hy Brasil (single), The Wine Dark Sea (single), Hiljaa Kuljen (single), and 4 more.
1. |
The Philippine Soldier
02:38
|
|||
|
Come lads and lasses listen a while
I’ll sing you a ditty that will cause you to smile,
Of a lass from Clare and a Dingle boy
And they called him the Philippine soldier.
‘Twas at Puck Fair that these two met
On his way from Liverpool he was bent,
They drank away ‘til their hearts content
Herself and the Philippine soldier
She said “my young man you’ve won my heart
and my gold you can have if you’ll only start,”
“Away to America we both might part”
herself and the Philippine soldier.
They landed at Queenstown in a few days
And booked the good ship New Brunswick there
Carried away without delay,
Herself and the Philippine Soldier.
When they landed at Boston we were told here round,
“They’re to be married in a church of high renown”
Counted every penny of her more right down,
Then away with the Philippine Soldier.
Now she's crying and tearing her hair,
The moneys all gone and the soldier’s not there,
“Old Nick” himself will hold out his snare,
For the goddamn old Philippine soldier.
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
The Pampa's Fairest Child
By J. J. M.*
It's not from home this fair one's come
Tho' handsome is her mien
She's a fair lass none can surpass
Born on the Pampa's Plains.
My wishes keen have always been
And they still hold out unfailed
to love this dame unknown to fame
The Pampa's Fairest Child.
When I saw her today with her smile so gay
Cupid did me enchain
Perchance ere long if fortunes strong
Her affections I might gain
Her looks do show she's handsome O!
She leaves one all beguiled
Her winning glance I met by chance
The Pampa's Fairest Child.
'Tis natural for me to be living free
Among the gaucho tribe
To be carried away by a maid so gay
Whose beauty I can't describe.
Some people say I'm led astray
And harbour thoughts too wild
In loving one and others none
The Pampa's Fairest Child.
* 'El Monitor de la Campaña' N° 40
(Capilla del Señor, 25 March 1872)
|
||||
3. |
Country of Clouds
07:30
|
|||
4. |
The Trackless Wild
05:39
|
|||
|
At e’er as o'er the trackless wild my saino* bounds along
My thoughts are of a pleasant land and of a gladsome throng
Of scenes no southern sun can scorch in memories verdant plains
Though bronzed may be the tenement where-in such fancy reigns
And as I reach that distant mount my thoughts come back again
And place before my longing eyes the children of the plains
Whose merry laughs recall the days of innocence and joy e’er
Cares and blighted hopes of youth could sweets of life destroy.
Yet little weep I for them both, my God steed and I
Are sailing o'er the Pampa plain beneath his care on high
And every bound my saino takes rewards a weary strife
And makes me gay and happy in this wilderness of life.
So hail La Plata! though by birth an exile from your shore
Adopted land both wild and grand and I’ll try to love you more
For freedom unadorned hold, last my roving mind
And help me scarce lament the land and home I left behind.
*Saino is a type of horse popular in Argentina.
|
||||
5. |
Na San Patricios
04:35
|
|||
|
Daichead a seacht i bhfad ró dhian, cailleadh anso iad ‘s i bhfad i gcéin,
Cailleadh iad i ngleanntá glasa na hÉireann, is crochadar ar cláracha Mheicsiceo.
Dhá scór fearaibh ag feitheamh le bás, sínte ar chroch ba thrua a gcás,
le teas millteanach an mhéan lae, thugadar leo go bhflaitheas dé.
Daichead a seacht i bhfad ró chrua, cos ar bholg gan stad, gan suan,
Ó Vera Cruz le brathach in airde, baileadar le crogadh le céile.
Naomh Pádraig ‘s a cros, ‘s iomaí fear a déag faoin breatach glas
Lámh ar lámh le chéile, gach beachaint á réabadh.
Os cionn scamaill gan céilúir n-éan General Lee lena airm féin
Cuireadh ruaig ar airm Valencia, ach d-éalaímar go caithair Mheicsiceo.
I ngort arbhar bhí na poncán clúdaithe, thit siad ar an dtalamh lenár gunaí morá
Lámh ar lámh le chéile gach beachaint á reabadh.
Luascadh an breatach bán trí uaire, fós gearr Riley é síos gan bac air,
Géill siad faraor in ísle brí, i lochán dá fhuil féinig.
An Cruit, Naomh Padraig, ‘s a cros “Éirinn go brách” ar bhreatach glas,
Go dilís le chéile ‘s gunaí a pléascadh, gach beachaint á reabadh.
Dhá scór fearaibh ag feitheamh le bás, sínte ar chroch ba thrua a gcás
Le teas millteanach an mhéan lae thugadar leo go bhflaitheas dé.
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
Crawfish Lacey and Mick o' Neill, sweated 'til it hid their tears.
Sinking in a swamp, still they trudged on, as they dreamt of the old country.
I still see them now when I shut my eyes, as insects hum in warm afternoon.
Etched in blood and grit and mud-the boys of the basin canal.
Spailpíns all, we heard the call, straight from the shipyards we came.
Hope sunk in a swamp, for a dollar a day. Who knows how many did fall?
Disease knocked us down, as the bosses scowled- "a terrible loss of dollars today."
"What great bother if they die?" I hear them cry, "There's more arriving every day."
I'd had enough, though they wanted more, they break you for gold, full shame.
So I took my pack and and never looked back, and I walked on down the long road.
When I heard Lacey died I pitied O' Neill, toiling aggrieved and alone.
Against Gael and Gall like a beast he howled- at the moon, and the night, and the sea.
When I reached the Bayou, I sent the word "don't rage aggrieved and alone."
"There's a trade to be had if you hit the road and come down to the Irish Bayou."
O' Neill made it out, threw his shovel down he followed me down the quiet coast-
where fresh breezes blow and wild flowers grow, way down on the Irish bayou.
Though the day long, on the rolling wave, on the wide open plains of the sea,
no green fields of land, nor desert sands, could tempt me away I am free.
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
The Dresden shone like silver
as it pulled into the quay,
though not the home they left from
new horizons gleamed.
The adverts read “Good wages”
and “Employment Guaranteed.”
They should have read “False Promises”
“Bad Dreams, Fulfilled.”
From Offices on Grand parade
and Dublin’s Sackville Street,
for the Argentine government
Dillion and O’ Meara schemed.
The future of 2000 souls
held in their cold hands,
they were too busy counting coins
To care what came next.
First came the Immigrants Hotel
a hotel with no beds.
On cold cold stone, they laid down
tossed and turned, nights on end.
Moving on to Paseo de Julio,
the starving mob was led,
too hungry to complain, too tired to sleep,
they shuffle their feet instead.
In a stable of putrid water
more fit for horses than men.
They say they were treated like cattle
But then cattle are watered and fed.
Some girls were taken to Tucamán street
where an Irish convent rang its daily bells,
others promised comfort from stylish carriages
found a cold welcome from Buenos Aire's madames.
who pulled up in the squalid evening
and pulled away swiftly again.
A Colony was set-up at Napostá
the Maccarthy’s settled in Balcarce
O’ Keefe’s, Pearce, Bourke, Jackson
scattered like leaves to the four winds.
Aboard the ship The Dresden
the Republic shone bright ,
left with a head full of phantoms
bright dreams ignite.
From Limerick, Cork and Dublin
to Tents on the Argentine plains ,
though not the home that they left from
new horizons gleamed.
|
||||
8. |
Father George Montgomery
04:39
|
|||
|
Father George Montgomery, Hero of Forgotten men –
From the Black Country of England, his boats bound down for Hy Brazil.
The Coal mines of Middle England, Stunted towers capped with flame,
Can you see the slaves a toiling?, each blackened day is just the same.
They’re in the Black Country, black by day and red by night
Where the Clang and bang roar and boom are constant dark or light.
Father George Montgomery. Hero of Forgotten man –
once we fled from famine, now we take to the seas again.
Come all ye loyal Irishmen broken down in islé brí
There a land across the ocean Hy Brazil your the one me.
This wasted land is hell, so let’s take to the sea,
"flee ye to another realm", Santa Catarina you’re the girl for me.
Your faith and tongue a hindrance - in this land of royal decree,
Shun ye now those Kings of England and head across the sea.
Take a note from our own saviour and come along with me,
Where the Fields are rich. The harvest ripe a world of blue; then green.
We have blessing from an Pápa 300 souls shall set sail,
More will follow in our footsteps, God’s will prevail.
From Liverpool and from Leeds, Luton, Sheffield, Wedsbury,
From the slovenly slums of London, rise and follow Montgomery.
Father George Montgomery, Hero of Forgotten man –
From the Black Country of England, his boats bound down for Hy Brazil.
Father George Montgomery, Hero of Forgotten man -
Look! we’re out on restless oceans to Hy Brazil we’ve set sail.
|
||||
9. |
¿Un Hombre Cansado?
03:51
|
|||
|
¿Un Hombre Cansado?
Me dicen que sólo soy un hombre triste y cansado,
yo con esta guitarra, respondo a todos cantando.
Yo canto canciones tristes porque triste está mi pueblo,
en sus ojos la esperanza va poco a poco muriendo.
Ayer murió el compañero, y el pueblo llora de pena,
que sólo quedan los campos, que solo queda la senda.
Me marcho por los caminos, a reunirme con mi gente,
A combatir junto a ellos, espero así la muerte.
Juan Antonio Espinosa (from "La Tierra Grita")
|
||||
10. |
||||
|
Over there by the East river,
Where the seagulls cry and stretch their wings,
The shipyard boats are primed for leaving,
It’s a long time since Jonny went a fighting.
In the month of April, 1837,
Johnny's mother exhausted, sighed,
Held in her arms her new-born baby -
Johnny Dynamite O’Brien.
As a restless child he prowled the docks,
Seeking trouble or fortune, whichever he could find,
Soon learned his trade on Cherry Street,
On ships Jane and Albion then his trade he plied.
Marine Mambí Johnny Dynamite!
On the first days of a long summer,
He filled his hold with money and lies
On the Rambler he went roving,
from New York Harbor he did incite -
To Boca del Toro and waiting soldiers
Waging war in foreign climes.
Laden down with mighty explosives -
Pining for Colon’s harbor Colombia’s pride.
As the rebel he went sailing,
A stormy gale did arise.
A mighty storm lashed the hold,
And the 60 tonnes of dynamite.
Midnight dark, roaring, reeling,
Explosives rolled loose, near set alight,
Johnny tied them down as he heard around him
Sailors softly their prayers recite.
Marine Mambí Johnny Dynamite!
A bright eagle that arose in Tampa
was felled for its star to rise.
A troubled man found a cause to fight for
Cuba’s liberty and there Spain’s demise.
He smuggled all guns fired at Las Tunas,
The prickly thorn in Valeriano Wayler’s side.
Brought Jose Martí’s son to that battle
And 3000 pounds of dynamite.
He settled down in the port Havana,
As the cries of Cuba libre did subside,
Swimming in the sparkling Caribbean sea,
Basking in freedom’s glory and sunny climes.
Before Johnny died he returned to the docks,
To see snowfall on New York Harbour's side.
No-more will Johnny go a roving,
He died that June as the scorching summer arrived.
Marine Mambí Johnny Dynamite
|
||||
11. |
||||
|
A bright flower of renown
In Spain sits to take it down,
Each lake, each bird that flies,
soaring to its heart’s delight.
Each wood, each glen,
Éin fláith, the world of men.
A flame, a lighting fire is set
A sleek salmon into a net,
A man who in knowing abounds
Itemising fish and fowl.
Philibín ó Suilleabháin Beara ag chuir Éireann in úil
Tine á lasadh sa dorchadas dúinn.
Cuile coill á thrácht níl Calafort ní traonadh faoi rún
Tine á lasadh sa dorchadas dúinn.
Each stream that gently flows
As into a roaring river goes.
Each flower that has a seed
Each glade, each leafed tree.
The Earl’s have gone across the sea
What is to be, will be.
A dying swan sings her song
And in doing so, lives on.
Philibín ó Suilleabháin Beara ag chuir Éireann in úil
Tine á lasadh sa dorachadas dúinn.
Cuile coill á thrácht níl Calafort ní traonadh faoi rún
Tine á lasadh sa dorchadas dúinn.
|
||||
12. |
||||
|
The southern cross and the wine dark sea,
flung, scattered far, o'er oceans deep.
As the horizon takes the sun,
we toil until our day is done.
As the sun goes down,
we dream on.
Theres a place I dwell on all in my sleep,
her rocky shores, they lap at my feet.
Where silver salmon run
in rivers where they were born.
I count her mountains in my sleep,
Each proud ben and soaring peak.
The sun comes up to golden' hills,
It crests nine waves then all is still.
A clear vision bright,
No movement.
|
||||
13. |
The Land of The Blest
05:41
|
|||
|
On the ocean that hollows the rocks where ye dwell,
A shadowy land has appeared, as they tell;
Some thought it a region of sunshine and rest,
And they called it Hy-Brasail, the land of the blest;
From year unto year, on the ocean’s blue rim,
This beautiful spectre shone lovely and dim;
Golden clouds curtained the deep where it lay,
And it looked like an Eden, away, far away!
A peasant who heard of this wonderful tale,
On a breeze of the Orient loosened his sail;
From Ara, the holy, he turned to the west,
For though Ara was holy, Hy-Brasail was blest.
He heard not the voices that called from the shore,
He heard not the rising wind’s menacing roar;
Home, kindred, and safety he left on that day,
And he sped to Hy-Brasail, away, far away!
Morn’ rose on the deep, and that shadowy isle
Though the faint rim of distance reflected its smile;
Noon burned on the wave, and that shadowy shore,
Seemed lovelier and distant, and faint as before;
Lone evening came down on the wanderer’s track,
To Ara again he looked timidly back;
Far on the verge of the ocean it lay,
And the land of the blest was away, far away!
Rash dreamer, return! on ye winds of the main,
Bear him back to Ara again.
Rash fool! for a vision of fanciful bliss,
To barter thy calm life of labour and peace.
The warning of reason was spoken in vain;
He never came back to Ara again!
Morn’ rose on the deep, amidst tempest and spray,
And he died on the ocean, away, far away!
|
||||
Trouble or Fortune Records Killarney, Ireland
Trouble or Fortune is where myself, Charlie O' Brien's, music and film projects are found.
Besides my own work and collaborations, Japanese alt. folk artist, Mari Mochizuki, is the first formal addition to label.
If you like Hy Brasil, Songs of the Irish in Latin America, you may also like:
From Cork, Ireland, Lewis Barfoot writes mystic, majestic songs derived from regional folk, with an ambient music aura.
go to album
The Two Worlds
by Brigid Mae Power
The latest LP from Brigid Mae Power is gorgeous and ghostly, setting Power’s voice against soft brushes of guitar, piano, & shuffling drums.
go to album
How Does It Feel EP
by Lizzie Weber
Missouri singer/songwriter Lizzie Weber delivers a trio of songs lightly informed by country music, and fleshed out with strings.
go to album
Guardians Of Our Time
by Edd Donovan and The Wandering Moles
Edd Donovan's day job as a social worker brings a sense of empathy to his elegantly constructed political folk music.
go to album
Dakota Blue Moon
by Jackson Harden
Gorgeous acoustic Americana from North Carolina, stripped-back and sublime.
go to album
Singer-songwriter Henry Parker puts his own spin on the classic sounds of '60s and '70s British folk on this wilderness-inspired new LP.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jul 27, 2021
go to album
