Chords for Ronnie Drew tribute to Irish Harpist Turlough O’Carolan
Tempo:
74.35 bpm
Chords used:
G
D
C
A
Gm
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[G] [Bb] [Gm]
[Cm] [Gm] [A]
[Dm] [Am] [Gm]
Hello.
You may not have a note of music in you, but if you live in Ireland, there's one
musical instrument you couldn't help being familiar with.
You'll find it on our coins,
if you're lucky enough to have any, on our income tax forms, and on all those letters
that begin a collar with reference to your communication of the 17 Insts we wish to remind
you, and they're usually reminding you to pay up or else.
Yes, there can't be a day
that passes but you'll see a picture of a harp in front of you, for good or ill.
And
yet, and this is the funny thing about it, you'll go quite a long way before you'll hear
Ireland's national instrument played.
I mean actually played.
To find out just why this
state of affairs has come about, [G] we'll have to go back a bit into history, to the days
when no big house in Ireland [D] was complete without its harper.
[G]
[C] [G] These men were carrying
on a tradition that stretched back to the earliest days of [C] Gaelic civilisation, [G] as can
be seen from pictures and carvings of harps [C] on [G] tombstones, high crosses and in early manuscripts.
The harper wasn't just an employee round the place like a gardener or a [C] chauffeur.
He [G] was
very much an honoured [C] guest, playing for special [G] occasions like weddings and funerals, and
often taking pupils.
It took [Am] a long time to make a good harper.
[G] [C] [G] You had to [D] start before
you were ten years of [G] age or [C] your fingers would be too stiff.
And [D] if you stuck to your
lessons, the chances were that by the age of eighteen you might [G] have developed into
a true professional.
There were three kinds of music you had [C] to be able to play, soon
three which [Gm] no one could listen to without falling into a pleasant [C] doze.
[G] Now that wasn't
considered rude in those [D] days, like the character in Seán O'Casey's play who says,
Give us one of your shus-eye-wands.
Actually it was a sort of lullaby, I suppose you could
call it.
Then there was gul-tree, which nobody could hear without bursting into tears.
And
again, no one took that as a criticism of the performance either.
I suppose it was like
a lament.
And the third kind was called gion-tree, which made people laugh fit to burst.
Now
if you could do all that, and it was a tall order, and compose tunes into the bargain,
you might consider yourself the equal of that great Torlach o'Callaghan, often called the
last of the Irish harpers.
Callaghan was born in Newtown, near Nobber in the county of Meath,
in the year 1670.
We don't know very much about his family, though his father might
have been a blacksmith.
Anyway he worked for people called MacDermid Row, and when they
moved to the county of Roscommon, the Callaghan's went with him.
Young Torlach would have been
about fourteen at this time.
Four years later he caught smallpox and went completely blind.
In those days smallpox was very common, very nasty and virtually incurable.
Now there weren't
many things blind people could do to earn a living in those days.
If you were lucky
and if you moved in the right circles, you could become a musician, a piper or a fiddler
maybe, or a harper.
Mrs.
MacDermid Row took an interest in the young man and had him taught
not only how to play the harp, but how to write music for it as well.
Remember he was 18 and all
the experts agreed that he was really starting too late ever to become a really professional
performer.
Three years later however, Callaghan was trained and equipped and ready for the road,
ready to set off on the circuit of the big houses, playing and singing and composing special tunes
for members of the important families.
Tunes, [Em] particularly jolly [A] tunes [D] written in praise of a
patron were usually [G] called Planksties.
Callaghan's customers [D] must have been numerous judging from the
Planksties written in their honour.
[G] [A] Plankstie [G] George Brabazon, Plankstie Kelly written for a
Mr.
Kelly of Tulsks, [D] even Plankstie Drew must have been [G] one of my relatives, we're a long-tailed
family.
[A] Plankstie Drury [G] written in honour of Elizabeth Goldsmith, cousin of [D] Oliver Goldsmith
and wife to John Drury and this one, [G] Bumpers Squire Jones [A] written to repay [D] the hospitality
[G] of Thomas Jones of Moneyglass and played by Alien [D] McClan.
[G] [Em] [A] [G]
[D] [G]
[A] [G]
[D]
[G] [A] [D] [G]
[D] [Em] [D]
[Cm] [Gm] [A]
[Dm] [Am] [Gm]
Hello.
You may not have a note of music in you, but if you live in Ireland, there's one
musical instrument you couldn't help being familiar with.
You'll find it on our coins,
if you're lucky enough to have any, on our income tax forms, and on all those letters
that begin a collar with reference to your communication of the 17 Insts we wish to remind
you, and they're usually reminding you to pay up or else.
Yes, there can't be a day
that passes but you'll see a picture of a harp in front of you, for good or ill.
And
yet, and this is the funny thing about it, you'll go quite a long way before you'll hear
Ireland's national instrument played.
I mean actually played.
To find out just why this
state of affairs has come about, [G] we'll have to go back a bit into history, to the days
when no big house in Ireland [D] was complete without its harper.
[G]
[C] [G] These men were carrying
on a tradition that stretched back to the earliest days of [C] Gaelic civilisation, [G] as can
be seen from pictures and carvings of harps [C] on [G] tombstones, high crosses and in early manuscripts.
The harper wasn't just an employee round the place like a gardener or a [C] chauffeur.
He [G] was
very much an honoured [C] guest, playing for special [G] occasions like weddings and funerals, and
often taking pupils.
It took [Am] a long time to make a good harper.
[G] [C] [G] You had to [D] start before
you were ten years of [G] age or [C] your fingers would be too stiff.
And [D] if you stuck to your
lessons, the chances were that by the age of eighteen you might [G] have developed into
a true professional.
There were three kinds of music you had [C] to be able to play, soon
three which [Gm] no one could listen to without falling into a pleasant [C] doze.
[G] Now that wasn't
considered rude in those [D] days, like the character in Seán O'Casey's play who says,
Give us one of your shus-eye-wands.
Actually it was a sort of lullaby, I suppose you could
call it.
Then there was gul-tree, which nobody could hear without bursting into tears.
And
again, no one took that as a criticism of the performance either.
I suppose it was like
a lament.
And the third kind was called gion-tree, which made people laugh fit to burst.
Now
if you could do all that, and it was a tall order, and compose tunes into the bargain,
you might consider yourself the equal of that great Torlach o'Callaghan, often called the
last of the Irish harpers.
Callaghan was born in Newtown, near Nobber in the county of Meath,
in the year 1670.
We don't know very much about his family, though his father might
have been a blacksmith.
Anyway he worked for people called MacDermid Row, and when they
moved to the county of Roscommon, the Callaghan's went with him.
Young Torlach would have been
about fourteen at this time.
Four years later he caught smallpox and went completely blind.
In those days smallpox was very common, very nasty and virtually incurable.
Now there weren't
many things blind people could do to earn a living in those days.
If you were lucky
and if you moved in the right circles, you could become a musician, a piper or a fiddler
maybe, or a harper.
Mrs.
MacDermid Row took an interest in the young man and had him taught
not only how to play the harp, but how to write music for it as well.
Remember he was 18 and all
the experts agreed that he was really starting too late ever to become a really professional
performer.
Three years later however, Callaghan was trained and equipped and ready for the road,
ready to set off on the circuit of the big houses, playing and singing and composing special tunes
for members of the important families.
Tunes, [Em] particularly jolly [A] tunes [D] written in praise of a
patron were usually [G] called Planksties.
Callaghan's customers [D] must have been numerous judging from the
Planksties written in their honour.
[G] [A] Plankstie [G] George Brabazon, Plankstie Kelly written for a
Mr.
Kelly of Tulsks, [D] even Plankstie Drew must have been [G] one of my relatives, we're a long-tailed
family.
[A] Plankstie Drury [G] written in honour of Elizabeth Goldsmith, cousin of [D] Oliver Goldsmith
and wife to John Drury and this one, [G] Bumpers Squire Jones [A] written to repay [D] the hospitality
[G] of Thomas Jones of Moneyglass and played by Alien [D] McClan.
[G] [Em] [A] [G]
[D] [G]
[A] [G]
[D]
[G] [A] [D] [G]
[D] [Em] [D]
Key:
G
D
C
A
Gm
G
D
C
[G] _ [Bb] _ _ [Gm] _ _ _
[Cm] _ [Gm] _ _ _ _ [A] _
[Dm] _ _ [Am] _ [Gm] _ _ _
Hello.
You may not have a note of music in you, but if you live in Ireland, there's one
musical instrument you couldn't help being familiar with.
You'll find it on our coins,
if you're lucky enough to have any, _ _ on our income tax forms, and on all those letters
that begin a collar with reference to your communication of the 17 Insts we wish to remind
you, and they're usually reminding you to pay up or else.
Yes, there can't be a day
that passes but you'll see a picture of a harp in front of you, for good or ill.
_ And
yet, and this is the funny thing about it, you'll go quite a long way before you'll hear
Ireland's national instrument played.
I mean actually played.
To find out just why this
state of affairs has come about, [G] we'll have to go back a bit into history, to the days
when no big house in Ireland [D] was complete without its harper.
[G] _
[C] [G] These men were carrying
on a tradition that stretched back to the earliest days of [C] Gaelic civilisation, [G] as can
be seen from pictures and carvings of harps [C] on [G] tombstones, high crosses and in early manuscripts. _
The harper wasn't just an employee round the place like a gardener or a [C] chauffeur.
He [G] was
very much an honoured [C] guest, playing for special [G] occasions like weddings and funerals, and
often taking pupils.
It took [Am] a long time to make a good harper.
[G] _ [C] [G] You had to [D] start before
you were ten years of [G] age or [C] your fingers would be too stiff.
And [D] if you stuck to your
lessons, the chances were that by the age of eighteen you might [G] have developed into
a true professional.
_ There were three kinds of music you had [C] to be able to play, soon
three which [Gm] no one could listen to without falling into a pleasant [C] doze.
[G] Now that wasn't
considered rude in those [D] days, like the character in Seán O'Casey's play who says,
Give us one of your shus-eye-wands.
Actually it was a sort of lullaby, I suppose you could
call it. _
Then there was gul-tree, which nobody could hear without bursting into tears.
And
again, no one took that as a criticism of the performance either.
I suppose it was like
a lament.
And the third kind was called gion-tree, which made people laugh fit to burst.
Now
if you could do all that, and it was a tall order, and compose tunes into the bargain,
you might consider yourself the equal of that great Torlach o'Callaghan, often called the
last of the Irish harpers.
Callaghan was born in Newtown, near Nobber in the county of Meath,
in the year 1670.
We don't know very much about his family, though his father might
have been a blacksmith.
Anyway he worked for people called MacDermid Row, and when they
moved to the county of Roscommon, the Callaghan's went with him.
Young Torlach would have been
about fourteen at this time.
_ Four years later he caught smallpox and went completely blind.
In those days smallpox was very common, very nasty and virtually incurable. _
Now there weren't
many things blind people could do to earn a living in those days.
If you were lucky
and if you moved in the right circles, you could become a musician, a piper or a fiddler
maybe, or a harper.
Mrs.
MacDermid Row took an interest in the young man and had him taught
not only how to play the harp, but how to write music for it as well.
Remember he was 18 and all
the experts agreed that he was really starting too late ever to become a really professional
performer. _
Three years later however, Callaghan was trained and equipped and ready for the road,
ready to set off on the circuit of the big houses, playing and singing and composing special tunes
for members of the important families. _ _
Tunes, [Em] particularly jolly [A] tunes [D] written in praise of a
patron were usually [G] called Planksties.
Callaghan's customers [D] must have been numerous judging from the
Planksties written in their honour.
[G] [A] Plankstie [G] George Brabazon, _ Plankstie Kelly written for a
Mr.
Kelly of Tulsks, [D] even Plankstie Drew must have been [G] one of my relatives, we're a long-tailed
family.
[A] Plankstie Drury [G] written in honour of Elizabeth Goldsmith, cousin of [D] Oliver Goldsmith
and wife to John Drury and this one, [G] Bumpers Squire Jones [A] written to repay [D] the hospitality
[G] of Thomas Jones of Moneyglass and played by Alien [D] McClan. _ _
[G] _ [Em] _ [A] _ [G] _ _ _
_ _ _ [D] _ _ [G] _
_ _ [A] _ [G] _ _ _
_ _ _ [D] _ _ _
[G] _ _ _ [A] _ [D] _ [G] _
_ [D] _ [Em] _ [D] _ _ _
[Cm] _ [Gm] _ _ _ _ [A] _
[Dm] _ _ [Am] _ [Gm] _ _ _
Hello.
You may not have a note of music in you, but if you live in Ireland, there's one
musical instrument you couldn't help being familiar with.
You'll find it on our coins,
if you're lucky enough to have any, _ _ on our income tax forms, and on all those letters
that begin a collar with reference to your communication of the 17 Insts we wish to remind
you, and they're usually reminding you to pay up or else.
Yes, there can't be a day
that passes but you'll see a picture of a harp in front of you, for good or ill.
_ And
yet, and this is the funny thing about it, you'll go quite a long way before you'll hear
Ireland's national instrument played.
I mean actually played.
To find out just why this
state of affairs has come about, [G] we'll have to go back a bit into history, to the days
when no big house in Ireland [D] was complete without its harper.
[G] _
[C] [G] These men were carrying
on a tradition that stretched back to the earliest days of [C] Gaelic civilisation, [G] as can
be seen from pictures and carvings of harps [C] on [G] tombstones, high crosses and in early manuscripts. _
The harper wasn't just an employee round the place like a gardener or a [C] chauffeur.
He [G] was
very much an honoured [C] guest, playing for special [G] occasions like weddings and funerals, and
often taking pupils.
It took [Am] a long time to make a good harper.
[G] _ [C] [G] You had to [D] start before
you were ten years of [G] age or [C] your fingers would be too stiff.
And [D] if you stuck to your
lessons, the chances were that by the age of eighteen you might [G] have developed into
a true professional.
_ There were three kinds of music you had [C] to be able to play, soon
three which [Gm] no one could listen to without falling into a pleasant [C] doze.
[G] Now that wasn't
considered rude in those [D] days, like the character in Seán O'Casey's play who says,
Give us one of your shus-eye-wands.
Actually it was a sort of lullaby, I suppose you could
call it. _
Then there was gul-tree, which nobody could hear without bursting into tears.
And
again, no one took that as a criticism of the performance either.
I suppose it was like
a lament.
And the third kind was called gion-tree, which made people laugh fit to burst.
Now
if you could do all that, and it was a tall order, and compose tunes into the bargain,
you might consider yourself the equal of that great Torlach o'Callaghan, often called the
last of the Irish harpers.
Callaghan was born in Newtown, near Nobber in the county of Meath,
in the year 1670.
We don't know very much about his family, though his father might
have been a blacksmith.
Anyway he worked for people called MacDermid Row, and when they
moved to the county of Roscommon, the Callaghan's went with him.
Young Torlach would have been
about fourteen at this time.
_ Four years later he caught smallpox and went completely blind.
In those days smallpox was very common, very nasty and virtually incurable. _
Now there weren't
many things blind people could do to earn a living in those days.
If you were lucky
and if you moved in the right circles, you could become a musician, a piper or a fiddler
maybe, or a harper.
Mrs.
MacDermid Row took an interest in the young man and had him taught
not only how to play the harp, but how to write music for it as well.
Remember he was 18 and all
the experts agreed that he was really starting too late ever to become a really professional
performer. _
Three years later however, Callaghan was trained and equipped and ready for the road,
ready to set off on the circuit of the big houses, playing and singing and composing special tunes
for members of the important families. _ _
Tunes, [Em] particularly jolly [A] tunes [D] written in praise of a
patron were usually [G] called Planksties.
Callaghan's customers [D] must have been numerous judging from the
Planksties written in their honour.
[G] [A] Plankstie [G] George Brabazon, _ Plankstie Kelly written for a
Mr.
Kelly of Tulsks, [D] even Plankstie Drew must have been [G] one of my relatives, we're a long-tailed
family.
[A] Plankstie Drury [G] written in honour of Elizabeth Goldsmith, cousin of [D] Oliver Goldsmith
and wife to John Drury and this one, [G] Bumpers Squire Jones [A] written to repay [D] the hospitality
[G] of Thomas Jones of Moneyglass and played by Alien [D] McClan. _ _
[G] _ [Em] _ [A] _ [G] _ _ _
_ _ _ [D] _ _ [G] _
_ _ [A] _ [G] _ _ _
_ _ _ [D] _ _ _
[G] _ _ _ [A] _ [D] _ [G] _
_ [D] _ [Em] _ [D] _ _ _