The Easter 1916 Uprising Which Gave Rebirth To A NationHi again, folks, and Happy St. Patrick’s Day. The man had an interesting life for a Welsh born citizen of the Roman Empire, who, at the age of 16, got kidnapped by Irish raiders, sold into slavery, escaped after six years and then returned of his own free will to eventually drive the snakes out of a land where people worked in the dirt a lot.
By birth, I’m half McGuire and of a rebellious line. My screen name, minstrel312, comes from a song entitled “The Minstrel Boy”. In the long and rather interesting 500 year history of fighting for independence, Irish “armies” marched with a warrior among their number who also sang to inspire them. Considering the odds these farmers faced against a military might which defeated Napoleon at Waterloo, how bravely and horrifically they died and the damage they did, pikes against cannons, I’m figuring these minstrel boys had to be fair at their job.
Apparently so did the English because they caught one of them after a battle and promised to spare him if he would sing to them. His response comprises the lyrics of that song. He told his captors that he would not sing for them because his songs were meant for freedom, not for slavery.
The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
"Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,
"Tho' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy right shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!"
I’ve heard a lot of versions of that song down the years, by Irish and others. The best, in my half-shamrock opinion, was by Paul Robeson, who was a black concert singer and film actor circa the Depression era. I expect Mr. Robeson identified some with the history of a people struggling to be free.
I’ve some personal experience with the Old Sod, as well. A woman I loved as passionately as I’ve ever loved any other was born in Ireland and raised during “The Troubles”. She lost two brothers and a stellar love to that sectarian violence. She was and is a strong woman who, some nights, is terrified of sleeping for the dreams awaiting.
Ireland has come a long way, even in her lifetime, but the news of three deaths in Ulster at the hands of those who claim to be splinter groups of the Irish Republican Army mitigates my celebration this year. I pray Almighty God for steady hands in Belfast and Dublin.
I am reminded, as well, that Irish blood is as thick as the Guinness of which some of us are rather fond. Like the Jews after the Diaspora and again after the Holocaust, we were scattered some after the Famine. We did not always travel first class and sometimes, like Paul Robeson’s people and the tribes of Moses, we were transported in chains and sold when we got to our respective destinations. Those of us who survived the trip.
In the melting pot that is America and Canada, there is not one of us who cannot claim a portion of that same heritage. Despite these rather labored beginnings, two strong nations were forged and continue to be strengthened by the contributions of those who come here from other lands and sometimes under less than comfortable circumstances.
To me, then, St. Patrick’s Day is far more than a celebration of the Irish. It is a reminder that freedom, the desire for it, and the incredible sacrifices paid for it are something each and every one of us who values these shares in common.
I know for certain it has made two countries I love passionately the intrinsically great nations they are and I believe will continue to be.
Until next time, then, take care, stay well and God Bless.
Rusty
By birth, I’m half McGuire and of a rebellious line. My screen name, minstrel312, comes from a song entitled “The Minstrel Boy”. In the long and rather interesting 500 year history of fighting for independence, Irish “armies” marched with a warrior among their number who also sang to inspire them. Considering the odds these farmers faced against a military might which defeated Napoleon at Waterloo, how bravely and horrifically they died and the damage they did, pikes against cannons, I’m figuring these minstrel boys had to be fair at their job.
Apparently so did the English because they caught one of them after a battle and promised to spare him if he would sing to them. His response comprises the lyrics of that song. He told his captors that he would not sing for them because his songs were meant for freedom, not for slavery.
The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
"Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,
"Tho' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy right shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!"
I’ve heard a lot of versions of that song down the years, by Irish and others. The best, in my half-shamrock opinion, was by Paul Robeson, who was a black concert singer and film actor circa the Depression era. I expect Mr. Robeson identified some with the history of a people struggling to be free.
I’ve some personal experience with the Old Sod, as well. A woman I loved as passionately as I’ve ever loved any other was born in Ireland and raised during “The Troubles”. She lost two brothers and a stellar love to that sectarian violence. She was and is a strong woman who, some nights, is terrified of sleeping for the dreams awaiting.
Ireland has come a long way, even in her lifetime, but the news of three deaths in Ulster at the hands of those who claim to be splinter groups of the Irish Republican Army mitigates my celebration this year. I pray Almighty God for steady hands in Belfast and Dublin.
I am reminded, as well, that Irish blood is as thick as the Guinness of which some of us are rather fond. Like the Jews after the Diaspora and again after the Holocaust, we were scattered some after the Famine. We did not always travel first class and sometimes, like Paul Robeson’s people and the tribes of Moses, we were transported in chains and sold when we got to our respective destinations. Those of us who survived the trip.
In the melting pot that is America and Canada, there is not one of us who cannot claim a portion of that same heritage. Despite these rather labored beginnings, two strong nations were forged and continue to be strengthened by the contributions of those who come here from other lands and sometimes under less than comfortable circumstances.
To me, then, St. Patrick’s Day is far more than a celebration of the Irish. It is a reminder that freedom, the desire for it, and the incredible sacrifices paid for it are something each and every one of us who values these shares in common.
I know for certain it has made two countries I love passionately the intrinsically great nations they are and I believe will continue to be.
Until next time, then, take care, stay well and God Bless.
Rusty
1 comment:
I am reminded of a meeting I attended about fifteen years ago. Members of a Native American tribe from Northern California were planning to protest recent actions taken against them. I mentioned the plight of blacks as a correlation, and one of the speakers said that comparatively speaking, blacks had not suffered near as much as Native Americans. Later, I wrote a satirical piece about how when more than one group of people who have been mistreated get together the conversation always turns to who has been most mistreated. Therefore, I agree that freedom is the one cause we should all seek as a universal goal.
Some of my favorite lyricists come from the minstrel mode. At the top of my list are Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan and Bob Marley. By all means, let freedom ring in song, dance and spirit until we can all stand as one.
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