Irish Music Selections

There’s a neat economy to the language in The Lakes of Ponchartrain that feels more like reading a short, spare poem than listening to a ballad. Lines land with a clarity that trusts the listener to fill in the edges. Take the simple, aching admission 'I fell in love with a Creole girl' — it says everything and refuses to explain any of it. That restraint is the first craft trick of the song: emotion offered plainly, letting the landscape and small details do the work of feeling. On image and local colour The song arranges a handful of striking images so that they keep returning to the ear. There’s the rail journey from New Orleans to Jackson town, but what lingers is the shore and the repeated naming of the lakes. Repetition of place — the lakes themselves — turns geography into memory. Then you have the flash of danger and humour in 'if it weren't for the alligators, I'd sleep out in the wood' — an almost offhand line that anchors the romance in a partic...

There’s a slyness to "The Lismore Turkeys" that invites interpretation. Sing it straight and it’s a cautionary tale about promises and market-day poor judgement; sing it with a grin and it becomes a bawdy pub story. Over the years performers have carved out very different takes — from spare, narrative-led renditions to full-band, foot‑stomping versions that turn Kathy’s misfortune into comedy. Voices and choices Some singers favour a single voice and a fingertip guitar, letting each stanza read like a short scene. That approach foregrounds the lyrics — lines such as "Some turkeys I have for sale" and the later threat, "I'll have you before the recorder" — and gives the listener space to hear the girl’s shame and anger. A female vocalist will often change the emphasis, making Kathy less of an object of flirtation and more of a wronged woman; the lines about tears and reproach land harder. Other artists take a jaunty route. Add a bouzouki, fiddle...

A lively Munster ballad that tells the comic-turned-sad tale of a young man who meets a turkey-seller from Lismore on her way to the Dungarvan market. Full of local place names and market-day detail, it moves from flirting in Cappoquin to a sour ending when debts and deception are exposed. Songs like this survived in oral tradition and collectors' notebooks because they capture everyday rural life, local humour, and the risks of promises made on the road. 1. One morning I chanced to go roving, It being in the sweet month of May, When flowers they were blooming most charming And pleasant and blooming array. 2. I chanced for to meet with this fair one, Her aspects so free and so rare, And she making her way to Dungarvan At the very first dawn of day. 3. She hastened her paces before me, I told her to take her ease. But the more I advanced to discourse her The quicker she took to her heels. 4. I quickly stepped up to this fair maid, I asked her how far was she going Or did she ...