Echoes of Ireland

Musician Profiles | Texts & Translations | Notes on the Program

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Meet the Artists

BRIAN BIGLEY

flute and Irish dancer

ALAN CHOO

violin

LUKE CONKLIN

winds & harp

CAITLIN HEDGE

violin & vocals

SAM KREIDENWEIS

vocals

ANNA O’CONNELL

harp and vocals

RENÉ SCHIFFER

cello

WILLIAM SIMMS

lute & baroque guitar

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Texts & Translations

The Blacksmith

A blacksmith courted me, nine months and better,
He fairly won my heart, wrote me a letter,
With his hammer in his hand, he looked quite clever,
And if I were with my love, I’d live forever.

But where is my love gone with his cheeks like roses?
He’s gone across the sea gathering primroses.
I’m afraid the scorching sun will shine and burn his beauty,
And if I was with my love, I’d do my duty.

Flower of Maherally

One pleasant summer’s morning when all the flowers were springing-oh
Nature was adorning and the wee birds sweetly singing-oh
I met my love near Banbridge Town, my charming blue-eyed Sally-oh
She’s the queen of the County Down, the flower of Maherally-oh

With admiration I did gaze upon this blue-eyed maiden-oh
Adam wasn’t half so much pleased when he met his Eve in Eden-oh
Her skin was like the lily white that grows in yonder valley-oh
She’s my queen and my heart’s delight, the flower of Maherally-oh

I hope the day will surely come when we’ll join hands together-oh
‘Tis then I’ll take my darling home, in spite of wind and weather-oh
And let them all say what they will, and let them reel and rally-oh
I shall wed the girl I love, the flower of Maherally-oh

In Darkness Let Me Dwell

In darkness let me dwell,
The ground, shall sorrow be,
The roof despair to bar all,
All cheerful light from me,
The walls of marble black,
That moistened still shall weep,
My music, hellish jarring sounds,
to banish friendly sleep.

Thus wedded to my woes,
and bedded in my tomb,
O let me living die,
till death doth come,
In darkness let me dwell.

Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór

The Cutpurse
from Ben Johnson’s play Bartholomew Fair, 1614

My masters and friends and good people draw near,
And look to your purses, for that I do say,
And tho’ little money in them do you wear,
It cost me more to get than to lose in a day.
You oft have been told, the young and the old,
And bidden beware of the cutpurse so bold.
Then if you take heed not, free me from the curse,
Who give you fair warning a-gin’ the cutpurse!
Youth, youth, thou had’st better been starv’d at nurse,
Then live to be hang’d for cutting a purse.

The players doe tell you at Scarborough Faire,
What secret consumptions and rascals you are;
For one of their actors, it seems, had the fate,
By some of your trade to be fleec-èd of late:
Then fall to your prayers, you that are waylayers!
They’re fit to chouse all the world that can cheat players;
For he hath the art, and no man the worse,
Whose cunning can pilfer the pilferer’s purse.
Youth, youth thou had’st better been starv’d at nurse,
Then live to be hang’d for cutting a purse.

But oh, you vile nation of cutpurses all,
Relent and repent, and amend, and be sound!
And know that you ought not by honest mens’ fall,
To advance your own fortunes, to die above ground.
And tho’ you go gay, in silks, as you may,
It is not the highway to heaven (they say).
Repent then, repent ye for better for worse,
And kiss not the gallows for cutting a purse.
Youth, youth, thou had’st better been starv’d at nurse,
Then live to be hang’d for cut-ting a purse.

Óró mo bháidín
Translation by Anna O’Connell

Bridget Cruise, 1st Air
English lyrics by Jeannette Sorrell, adapted from the Gaelic

Ah, Bridget lovely, this humble poem
I write for thee sincerely!
For, by my faith, how I wish that
Thou couldst understand my affliction.
Thy flowing hair, how it shines like amber!
Thy shining eyes, how they steal my heart!
Oh, the flame of love it washes o’er me,
So that I can barely breathe!

Woe is me, my love! Woe is me!
For we should walk together.
We should ramble through the forests,
Side by side, and hand in hand.
We should lie among the flowers.
We should sleep under bowers.
Wearing foliage for clothing,
Side by side, and hand in hand.

Only the voice of my tender harp
Can sometimes heal my sorrow.
For I feel that Death soon shall call me.
But my heart, it belongs to thee.
Thy flowing hair, how it shines like amber!
Thy shining eyes, how they steal my heart!

Drink on, till night be spent
The Pleasant Musical Companion, Book II, 1686

Drink on, till night be spent and sun do shine!
Did not the gods give anxious mortals wine
To wash all care and trouble from the heart?
Why then so soon should jovial fellows part?
Come, let this bumper for the next give way.
Who’s sure to live and drink another day!
Since we will never be together,
My beloved Bridgette: fare thee well!

A Health to the Company

Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme
Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine
Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain
For we may or might never all meet here again

Refrain:
Here’s a health to the company and one to my lass
Let’s drink and be merry all out of one glass
Let’s drink and be merry, all grief to refrain
For we may or might never all meet here again

Here’s a health to the wee lass that I love so well
Her style and her beauty there’s none can excel
She smiles on my countenance; she is kind as can be
And there’s no man in this wide world as happy as me.

Refrain

Our ship lies at harbor, she is ready to sail
We shall never forget you; I will write without fail
If ever we meet again by land or by sea
I will always remember your kindness to me.

Refrain

Here’s a health to the all of you if I’ve named you not
Do not think for a moment it’s because you’re forgot
I will treasure the memory, as I call you my friend
and I hope some day very soon we all meet again.

Refrain

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Notes on the Program

Our program traces the life story of the blind Irish harper Turlough O’Carolan (1670-1738) through music by him and his contemporaries. In his incredible life traveling throughout Ireland, he touched the hearts of many, brought together the worlds of folk music and “high art” music, and further solidified the status of the harp as the national emblem of Ireland.

As the son of a blacksmith, O’Carolan experienced the brutal realities of class stratification from a young age. His deep love for Bridget Cruise was not meant to be as Bridget was the daughter of a landowning family with a castle, and her parents forbid her romance with the son of a blacksmith. O’Carolan would later compose four airs for his childhood flame.

In 1684, the O’Carolans moved from Nobber to Alderford, after Turlough’s father came under the employment of the aristocratic family, the MacDermott Roes. They welcomed the O’Carolans with open arms, and Turlough became lifelong friends with the entire family, and would later write tunes for various members of the family.

At the age of 18, tragedy struck when Turlough contracted smallpox, which blinded him for the rest of his life. Mary MacDermott took care of him by providing for his education and harp lessons for three years. When Turlough
turned 21, Mary gave him a horse, a servant and money to begin his journey as an itinerant harper.

His first stop was the home of Squire George Reynolds, himself a harper and poet, who first encouraged O’ Carolan to try writing his own tunes. Upon Reynold’s suggestion, O’Carolan penned his first tune, Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór, based on the legend of the “small fairy mound” and “big fairy mound” which were home to two powerful fairy queens.

Many of O’Carolan’s subsequent tunes were dedicated to patrons to thank them for their hospitality. Others functioned like a diary, recording incidents in his traveling life. In one instance, O’Carolan was feeling unwell and had been told by a doctor to avoid whiskey. Depressed and unable to compose, O’Carolan visited his friend Dr. Stafford, and asked him for a “receipt” (prescription). Knowing his friend well, Stafford secretly handed him a glass of whiskey instead. Revitalized, Carolan immediately composed his joyous tune – his Receipt for Drinking.

In another incident, O’Carolan was challenged to a musical duel by an Italian violinist, possibly Francesco Geminiani, who lived in Dublin for some years. The Italian violinist played a Vivaldi Concerto, and in response, O’Carolan composed and played his own “Concerto,” mimicking the piece he just heard while retaining his own Irish soul. The Italian violinist was reportedly astounded and conceded.

Late in his life, when O’Carolan was on a religious pilgrimage to Lough Derg, a most moving reunion took place. As he was boarding the boat to the island, his hand met the hand of a woman who had reached out to help him. O’Carolan immediately recognized the hand of his childhood flame, and cried out in Irish: “By the hand of my godfather, this is the hand of Bridget Cruise!”

In the spring of 1738, O’Carolan felt a weakness coming over him. Sensing his end was near, he returned to the home of the now elderly Mary MacDermott Roe – the place and people who gave him his life as an itinerant harper. O’Carolan called for his harp, and played his final piece – his Farewell to Music, before walking upstairs to bed, where he died a few days later. A two-week wake ensued after his death, celebrated by people all over, with harp music round the clock and barrels of ale. With his harp and his music, Turlough O’Carolan touched every soul he met with a beautiful legacy, and left us with a treasure trove of over 200 tunes that provide a fascinating glimpse into Irish cultural life during the Baroque era.

©2026 Alan Choo | Cleveland, OH