Come for the politics, stay for the snark.

Come on, media. you have one job. start doing it.

Let us savor the impending downfall of lawless scoundrels who richly deserve the trouble barreling their way.

When we show up, we win.

“The defense has a certain level of trust in defendant that the government does not.”

You don’t get rid of your umbrella while it’s still raining.

A norm that restrains only one side really is not a norm – it’s a trap.

Let’s bury these fuckers at the polls 2 years from now.

“I was told there would be no fact checking.”

Democracy cannot function without a free press.

If you are still in the gop, you are either an extremist yourself, or in bed with those who are.

GOP baffled that ‘we don’t care if you die’ is not a winning slogan.

“Joe Biden deserved better than he got from some folks in his own party.”

Elections aren’t won by handwringing, cowering, and/or bashing your own candidates.

We cannot abandon the truth and remain a free nation.

“Can i answer the question? No you can not!”

It looks like winning debates is a black job!

The arc of the moral universe doesn’t bend itself. it’s up to us.

If you still can’t see these things even now, maybe politics isn’t your forte and you should stop writing about it.

President Biden is doing good where he can, and getting it done.

I have other things to bitch about but those will have to wait.

Take hopelessness and turn it into resilience.

Second rate reporter says what?

The arc of history bends toward the same old fuckery.

… riddled with inexplicable and elementary errors of law and fact

You are here: Home / Music / Did the old songs taunt or cheer you?

Did the old songs taunt or cheer you?

by | 116 Comments

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What’s the best song ever about immigration/diaspora? This one may be my favorite.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Update. Also too:

It’s embarrassing to listen to prosperous 21st-century Americans with Irish surnames lavish on Mexican or Central American immigrants the same slurs — “dark,” “dirty,” “violent,” “ignorant” — once slapped on our own, possibly shoeless, forebears. The Irish were seen as unclean, immoral and dangerously in thrall to a bizarre religion. They were said to be peculiarly prone to violence. As caricatured by illustrators like Thomas Nast in magazines like Harper’s Weekly, “Paddy Irishman,” low of brow and massive of jaw, was more ape than human, fists trailing on the ground when they weren’t cocked and ready for brawling.

Reader Interactions

116Comments

  1. 1.

    virag

    Indeed! ‘Thousands are Sailing’ is one of my favs by The Pogues. It’s got it all, and some of the live versions with Philip Chevron singing are great as well.

    Slainte.

  2. 2.

    BGinCHI

    I’ll open with the obvious: Led Zeppelin’s “The Immigrant Song.”

    Valhalla I’m coming!

    I’m actually not sure it’s really a song about immigrants. More like pillaging. So maybe it’s a GOP version of an immigrant song.

  4. 4.

    c u n d gulag

    Russkies, Poles, Uke’s, N*ggerz and other D*rkies, Ch*nk’s, and Sp*c’s is ok – BUT NO IRISH NEED APPLY!

  7. 7.

    Amir Khalid

    There Are No Cats In America from An American Tail, and Bruce Springsteen’s rewrite of it, American Land.

  8. 8.

    Jewish Steel

    It’s a little stretch but ‘Deportee.’ The Arlo Guthrie one. As sung by Barbara Dane.

    Off the top of my head I can’t remember the words to the Costello one, although the melody is quite pretty.

  10. 10.

    The prophet Nostradumbass

    @efgoldman: Not long after my parents came to the US, they were at some sort of party and were subjected to having a fellow recent Irish immigrant go on about “shipping the Blacks back to Africa”.

  15. 15.

    Jewish Steel

    @BGinRagnarok: The version on How The West Was Won is my fave. It sounds like the end of the world.

  17. 17.

    Jewish Steel

    I always thought of that as more of an exploitation of labor song, but now that I think of it, it’s not a stretch at all.

    Thanks for remembering its full title!

  18. 18.

    Ruckus

    Not a good song day for me anymore.
    My scotch/irish dad died 12 yrs ago today. Born not too long after the turn of the last century, he crossed the states as an infant in a horse drawn covered wagon, then lived to see men on the moon. He was a polite racist but hired and paid people based on their abilities no matter the color of their skin, religion or language. He was a democrat to the end. He taught me a lot, but not everything. He showed me I could be better than those before me, if I tried.

  21. 21.

    GregB

    I read a co-workers rant against non-English speaking people after his visit to the DMV. He was raging and vitriolic.

    Then I noted his Italian heritage and pointed out how many times I visit the North End in Boston and hear all of those Italian immigrants speaking the native tongue while sitting outside of restaurants with signs written in the native language.

    Every generation forgets where they came from.

  22. 22.

    Tom Q

    @efgoldman: When I was a kid (late 50s/early 60s), I lived in a Queens Irish neighborhood that had a great influx of Cuban families after Castro. One afternoon, I heard a local woman, Mrs. Nelligan, screech out her window (in as thick a brogue as you can imagine) “I wish all you furriners would go back to that damn island you came from”. I believe that was the moment I became acquainted with the concept of irony.

  23. 23.

    kdaug

    Sally MacLennane v. Wake of the Medusa.

    Paired, like chocolate and red wine.

    Also, too – Gangs of New York.

  24. 24.

    Amir Khalid

    Another one from the Boss: Matamoros Banks.
    @Jewish Steel:
    Woody Guthrie wrote the lyrics, which first appeared as a poem published in a newspaper; he was in hospital by then, and too weak to use his guitar and work on a tune. Someone else set them to music.

  25. 25.

    wrb

    Acadian Driftwood is probably my favorite, but it has been took.
    so

    Sail Away

    In America, you get food to eat
    Won’t have to run through the jungle and scuff up your feet
    You just sing about Jesus, drink wine all day
    It’s great to be an American

    Ain’t no lions or tigers, ain’t no mamba snake
    Just the sweet watermelon and the buckwheat cake
    Everybody is as happy as a man can be
    Climb aboard little wog, sail away with me

    Sail away, sail away
    We will cross the mighty ocean into Charleston Bay
    Sail away, sail away
    We will cross the mighty ocean into Charleston Bay

    In America, every man is free
    To take care of his home and his family
    You’ll be as happy as a monkey in a monkey tree
    You all gonna be an American

    Sail away, sail away
    We will cross the mighty ocean into Charleston Bay
    Sail away, sail away
    We will cross the mighty ocean into Charleston Bay

  26. 26.

    Jewish Steel

    @BGinCHI: We did engagement photos in Lexington IL today and the Jewess was nearly melting. We foolishly brought the dog and had to cut the proceedings short as it was a little hot to stay in the car.

    What I’m saving on my gas bill I’m going to end up paying the kid who mows my lawn.

  27. 27.

    Raven

    Migra

    Santana

    migra migra pinche migra dejame en paz

    Immigration, Immigration, ****ing Immigration leave me in peace (ie leave me alone, give me some peace)

    Malicia veo en tus ojos, desprecio en tu corazon

    I see malice in your eyes, contempt in your heart.

    Es hora de reconocer, que todos somos una voz

    It is time to recognize we are all one voice (better english might be we are one and the same)

    Abraza el concepto venimos de la misma voz

    Embrace the concept (idea) that we are the same voice (again that we are one and the same)

    Me necesitas tu a mi, mas y mas que yo a ti

    You need me more and more like I need you.

    Thus this is a song about the immigration policies of the US towards latin america, suggesting that the US needs the migrant workers as badly as they need the US, and that we are all one people and should treat each other as such.

    swiped from the worldwide internet

  29. 29.

    Raven

    The Matamoros Banks, the Boss

    our sweet memory comes on the evenin’ wind
    I sleep and dream of holding you in my arms again
    The lights of Brownsville, across the river shine
    A shout rings out and into the silty red river I dive

  31. 31.

    Jewish Steel

    Amir Khalid: I didn’t know that although I did wonder why Arlo never wrote anything that good again. You are a font, my man.

  34. 34.

    Raven

    @Jewish Steel: Oh, I don’t know about that

    When A Soldier Makes It Home

    alfway around the world tonight
    In a strange and foreign land
    A soldier packs his memories
    As he leaves Afghanistan
    And back home they don’t know too much
    There’s just no way to tell
    I guess you had to be there
    For to know that war was hell

    Chorus:
    And there won’t be any victory parades
    For those that’s coming back
    They’ll fly them in at midnight
    And unload the body sacks
    And the living will be walking down
    A long and lonely road
    Because nobody seems to care these days
    When a soldier makes it home

    They’ll say it wasn’t easy
    Just another job well done
    As the government in Kabul falls
    To the sounds of rebel guns
    And the faces of the comrades
    Being blown out of the sky
    Leaves you bitter with the feeling
    That they didn’t have to die

    Chorus

    Halfway around the world tonight
    In a strange and foreign land
    A soldier unpacks memories
    That he saved from Vietnam
    Back home they didn’t know too much
    There was just no way to tell
    I guess you had to be there
    For to know that war was hell

    And there wasn’t any big parades
    For those that made it back
    They flew them in at midnight
    And unloaded all the sacks
    And the living were left walking down
    A long and lonely road
    Because nobody seemed to care back then
    When a soldier made it home

    The night is coming quickly
    And the stars are on their way
    As I stare into the evening
    Looking for the words to say
    That I saw the lonely soldier
    Just a boy that’s far from home
    And I saw that I was just like him
    While upon this earth I roam

    And there may not be any big parades
    If I ever make it back
    As I come home under cover
    Through a world that can’t keep track
    Of the heroes who have fallen
    Let alone the ones who won’t
    Which is why nobody seems to care
    When a soldier makes it home

  37. 37.

    JerryN

    About half of the Black 47 songs I can think of qualify. I’ll go with Livin’ in Amerca.

  42. 42.

    wrb

    @Ruckus:
    That was my serious first choice, someone had mentioned it upthread.

    That song is itself a voyage. Always takes me away.

  45. 45.

    Jewish Steel

    @BGinCHI: Ides o’ June. Our friend a poetry prof @IWU will be performing the ceremony. Got any favorite love or marriage poems to recommend?

  48. 48.

    trollhattan

    “American Tune” by Paul Simon?

    “Sailing” by the Sutherland brothers (later Rod Stewart)?

    Having brain lock on something by Natalie Merchant…not emerging.

  49. 49.

    Egypt Steve

    Mutabaruka, “White man country,” Hands down. It no good to live in a white man country too long, mon!

  51. 51.

    AA+ Bonds

    I dont know. I have the blood but I’m like son of son of son of son of son of narrowback. St. Patrick’s Day is an okay ecclesiastical feast but the secular version of it in the U.S. is . . . a little creepy to me, like a Halloween where everyone dresses up like church and my family

  55. 55.

    AA+ Bonds

    Psalm 137

    Kind of hard to beat that one, from start to finish

    (although it’s really Psalm 136)

  56. 56.

    Davis X. Machina

    It’s instrumental, but Ry Cooder’s theme for the movie “Alamo Bay“, a Louis Malle sleeper film (IMHO) about the conflict between native Texan and Vietnamese immigrant shrimpers in the Gulf of Mexico has always been a favorite.

  59. 59.

    Marcellus Shale, Public Dick

    Everything is still
    Not a chicken not a body
    Just an awful sickenin’ silence roarin’ in my ears
    And the fog of death deepens and lies upon the land
    An ould wan rolls over on her back
    The grass stains all green upon her chin
    I can still hear her keenin’ and screamin’ in the wind
    God’s curse upon you Lord John Russell
    May your blackhearted soul rot in hell
    There’s no love left on earth
    And god is dead in heaven
    In the dark and deadly days of Black 47
    God’s curse upon you Lord Trevalian
    May your great Queen Victoria rot in hell
    ‘Til England and it’s Empire
    Answer before heaven
    For the crimes they committed in Black 47
    Paudie says “c’mon now
    Don’t look back, she’s not livin’, she’s a phantom
    And she’ll curse us if we look into her eyes”
    Oh God, I must be dyin’ – the fever’s in me brain
    For can’t you see that pack of children up ahead
    The beards of old men sproutin’ from their chins
    Can’t you hear their screams of hunger on the wind
    Oh darlin’ Paudie save me
    I think I’m sinkin’ fast, me blood is boilin’
    Don’t let me die here in a ditch
    If the hunger doesn’t get me – the fever surely will
    So Paudie picked me up and threw me ‘cross his shoulders
    He nursed me everyday ’til we reached Amerikay
    Screamin’ and shoutin’ like a madman at the wind

    black47

  62. 62.

    wrb

    I pity the poor immigrant
    Whose strength is spent in vain,
    Whose heaven is like Ironsides,
    Whose tears are like rain,
    Who eats but is not satisfied,
    Who hears but does not see,
    Who falls in love with wealth itself
    And turns his back on me.

  68. 68.

    AA+ Bonds

    @David Koch:

    It makes more sense in Ireland, narrowbacks are something else

    The overwhelming desire of people with Irish blood to identify with Ireland is not something I identify with, and saw its practical realization in a bunch of fat psychopaths from this country attempting to live out their fantasies through funding the national struggles of distant relatives

    I mean, I’d unlapse my Catholic too if Protestants were pointing guns at my family

    Rochester, N.Y. is not Dublin

  69. 69.

    AA+ Bonds

    I really feel if I say Psalm 136(137) I should post it just to show that the Boss could not get this real.

    There have been a few different songs made from this but few include the Psalm’s conclusion. In the Catholic reading, this is an extremely important part, as it requires the faithful to understand that sometimes injustice spurs intense hatred among the wronged, enough that they cry out to God for the death of their enemies’ children, and yet that does not mitigate injustice – a very useful idea.

    I will even give you the KJV(!) because it reads better

    1 By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
    __
    2 We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
    __
    3 For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
    __
    4 How shall we sing the LORD’s song in a strange land?
    __
    5 If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
    __
    6 If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.
    __
    7 Remember, O LORD, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem; who said, Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof.
    __
    8 O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed; happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us.
    __
    9 Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones.

  70. 70.

    AA+ Bonds

    I might as well remind everyone of the real and lasting power of the other one I mentioned too (the Aeneid). If this doesn’t hit you in the gut when you think of people getting hauled out of chicken processing plants in Raeford for daring to risk injury and death so they can feed their families, I don’t know, man.

    Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc’d by fate,
    And haughty Juno’s unrelenting hate,
    Expell’d and exil’d, left the Trojan shore.
    Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,
    And in the doubtful war, before he won
    The Latian realm, and built the destin’d town;
    His banish’d gods restor’d to rites divine,
    And settled sure succession in his line,
    From whence the race of Alban fathers come,
    And the long glories of majestic Rome.
    O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;
    What goddess was provok’d, and whence her hate;
    For what offense the Queen of Heav’n began
    To persecute so brave, so just a man;
    Involv’d his anxious life in endless cares,
    Expos’d to wants, and hurried into wars!
    Can heav’nly minds such high resentment show,
    Or exercise their spite in human woe?

  72. 72.

    the antibob

    One of the best is Shaktar Donetsk on Strummer and the Mescalero’s Global a Go Go.

  78. 78.

    eric k

    Bruce of course, American Land:

    What is this land of America, so many travel there
    I’m going now while I’m still young, my darling meet me there
    Wish me luck my lovely, I’ll send for you when I can
    And we’ll make our home in the American land

    Over there all the woman wear silk and satin to their knees
    And children dear, the sweets, I hear, are growing on the trees
    Gold comes rushing out the river straight into your hands
    If you make your home in the American land

    There’s diamonds in the sidewalks, there’s gutters lined in song
    Dear, I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
    There’s treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
    Who will make his home in the American land

    I docked at Ellis Island in a city of light and spire
    I wandered to the valley of red-hot steel and fire
    We made the steel that built the cities with the sweat of our two hands
    And I made my home in the American land

    There’s diamonds in the sidewalk, there’s gutters lined in song
    Dear I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
    There’s treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
    Who will make his home in the American land

    The McNicholas, the Posalski’s, the Smiths, Zerillis too
    The Blacks, the Irish, Italians, the Germans and the Jews
    The Puerto Ricans, illegals, the Asians, Arabs miles from home
    Come across the water with a fire down below

    They died building the railroads, worked to bones and skin
    They died in the fields and factories, names scattered in the wind
    They died to get here a hundred years ago, they’re dyin’ now
    The hands that built the country were always trying to keep down

    There’s diamonds in the sidewalk, there’s gutters lined in song
    Dear I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
    There’s treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
    Who will make his home in the American land
    Who will make his home in the American land
    Who will make his home in the American land

  79. 79.

    AA+ Bonds

    @wrb:

    I wouldn’t exclude Native American music at all, but I’d probably exclude a lot of white people music, no offense

    I do enjoy the backwards building of myths of previous expulsion though, such as the Aeneid, or even the Puritan myth to some degree; I think proper readings of those give people the correct idea about the transitory nature of their eternal institutions and how close they are as brothers and sisters to the people they call illegal, as in, 150 years of relative internal peace and prosperity is next to nothing on the scale of history

    So there’s room to grow, if the risk of revisionism can be avoided, and that’s a big ‘if’ given the bones on which the myth of white America’s creation have been built

  81. 81.

    AA+ Bonds

    My reading of some of the poetry of Rome about its conquered and scattered foes finds a recognition that out of any of these peoples, who had been tossed like leaves in the wind, might arise a great king of legend and an empire that threatened their own (as, of course, happened, and had to happen)

  83. 83.

    Jager

    @Raven: Not live, but I’ve seen it. When I was in high school in the ’60s, the most beautiful girl in our school was a Latina.(think Salma Hayek) If you even thought of dating DonCella, you were finished socially with the “good” kids. Years later at a high school reunion I finally got a chance to catch up with her, she told me she had a thing for me too in high school. Damn we were dumb in those days. (or would it be dumber) I’m sure a bunch of the girls felt the same about her brother Roland! DonCella told me her parents were illegal at the time.

  84. 84.

    shecky

    Tom Russell’s 1999 album, The Man From God Knows Where, is a fantastic collection of immigration themed tunes inspired largely from Russell’s own ancestors. I’m especially fond of Dave Van Ronk’s performance of The Outcast. BTW, WTF did this comment with a writeup on rootsworld about the album get hosed as spam a few minutes ago?

  85. 85.

    runt

    Speaking of diaspora songs:

    Brave Sir Robin ran away.
    Bravely ran away, away!
    When danger reared its ugly head,
    He bravely turned his tail and fled.
    Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about
    And gallantly he chickened out.
    Bravely taking to his feet
    He beat a very brave retreat,
    Bravest of the brave, Sir Robin!

    He is packing it in and packing it up
    And sneaking away and buggering up
    And chickening out and pissing off home,
    Yes, bravely he is throwing in the sponge…

    Of course, that’s the European view. American’s might prefer something like Gogol Bordello’s “Through The Roof ‘n’ Underground”.

  86. 86.

    Mnemosyne (iTouch)

    I wouldn’t exclude Native American music at all, but I’d probably exclude a lot of white people music, no offense

    Depends on what you choose to term “white people’s music.” There’s a strong case for classifying music from the Appalachians as its own diaspora. But most popular American music has been drawn from other traditions. Dick Dale, the king of surf music, was inspired by the Lebanese music he heard as a child (he was Lebanese-American).

  87. 87.

    Evergreen (formerly Betsy, forever ago)

    @BGinCHI:

    There is.

    I am Kilrain and I’m a fightin’ man and I come from County Clare
    And the Brits would hang me for a Fenian so I took me leave of there
    And I crossed the ocean in the “Arrianne” the vilest tub afloat
    And the captain’s brother was a railroad man and he met us the boat
    So I joined up with the 20th Maine like I said my friend I’m a fighting man
    And we’re marchin’ south in the pouring rain and we’re all goin’ down to Dixieland

    I am Kilrain of the 20th Maine and we fight for Chamberlain
    Cause he stood right with us when the Johnnies came like a banshee on the wind
    When the smoke cleared out of Gettysburg many a mother wept
    For many a good boy died there, sure, and the air smelted just like death

    I am Kilrain of the 20th Maine and I’d march to hell and back again
    For Colonel Joshua Chamberlain – we’re all goin’ down to Dixieland

    I am Kilrain of the 20th Maine and I damn all gentlemen
    Whose only worth is their father’s name and the sweat of a workin’ man
    Well we come from the farms and the city streets and a hundred foreign lands
    And we spilled our blood in the battle’s heat
    Now we’re all Americans

    I am Kilrain of the 20th Maine and did I tell you friend I’m a fightin’ man
    And I’ll not be back this way again, cause we’re all goin’ down to Dixieland

  88. 88.

    PTirebiter

    @Ruckus: My condolences. Being Scots-Irish myself with a patriarch who arrived in 1799 as an indentured servant, I was thinking about it this morning in a slightly different context. My immediate family all grew up dirt-poor in the south. They moved to L.A. where I was born, to work in the WWII defense industry. They all to varying degrees found there way into the middle class but the racism on both sides remained as open as it was ugly, with two exceptions. My maternal grandmother, who eventually grew beyond it and once confided in me late in her life, that my great-grandfather had taken her to a lynching when she was nine and it still haunted her,
    and my paternal grandmother who was 3/4 Cherokee and to my knowledge had never spoken an unkind word toward anyone in her long and dignified life. Any way this morning I was wondering if Native Americans might be the only oppressed people in America that have shown little interest in oppressing anyone else? I’m aware of the early tribe on tribe stuff.

  90. 90.

    Splitting Image

    Thanks for posting, Doug. The NY Times gets a lot of flack around here for its op-ed page, but it occasionally hits a home run.

    Also, any reason to listen to the Pogues is a good one.

  91. 91.

    eam

    Letter from America by The Proclaimers captures the ups and downs of immigration very well, in my book.

  95. 95.

    PurpleGirl

    One nitpick about the titles in The Pogues video: The name was COHAN — George M. Cohan. His parents were Irish immigrants.

    I once got in a fight with a niece when she began really dumping on Mexican immigrants and others. I, not so gently, reminded her that her Sicilian great grandparents were dumped on (all of them being suspected of being Mafioso and criminals) and that her Irish ancestors had to read signs that read “No Irish Need Apply” and we also considered criminals. She wasn’t very happy.

  96. 96.

    Brother Shotgun of Sweet Reason

    @BGinCHI:

    Must be a good Steve Earle song I’m not thinking of.

    Yes, there is. “Leroy’s Dust Bowl Blues”, with the Del McCoury Band.

  97. 97.

    a hip hop artist from Idaho (fka Bella Q)

    Thanks for all the musical references, everyone. I tend not to do much musical on this day, as I remember my wonderful and willful father, who died on a March 17, some years ago. It was 9 days after the home hospice prediction. He’d had a good long run, and we had the last laugh together, as I told everyone he was holding out to make a grand exit on St. Patrick’s Day, and they all laughed at me.

  98. 98.

    Brother Shotgun of Sweet Reason

    @Brother Shotgun of Sweet Reason: And here’s the lyrics.

    Leroy was a farmer and an honest man
    Would have lived in Oklahoma all his days
    He just wanted left alone to work a piece of land
    But a hard wind come and blew his dreams away
    So he headed for the West Coast thought he could not lose
    Rollin’ down the highway with the dustbowl blues

    It’s a thousand miles from Broken Bow to Bakersfield
    And the highway’s paved with heartaches all the way
    Leroy drove on lookin’ for a better deal
    A place a man could settle down and stay
    But the police at the state line beat him black and blue
    Left him lyin’ by the roadside with the dustbowl blues

    They say California is a paradise
    Hollywood turns night time into day
    But up along the San Joaquin those city lights
    Might as well be a million miles away
    When your kids are cold and hungry wearin’ worn out shoes
    Standin’ in the garden with the dustbowl blues

  99. 99.

    sloan

    Loves me some Pogues! Best song? Don’t know if it’s the “best” song, but Molotov’s Frijolero is a fun one.

    Now why don’t you look down
    to where your feet is planted
    That U.S. soil that makes you take shit for granted
    If not for Santa Ana, just to let you know
    That where your feet are planted would be Mexico
    Correcto!

  102. 102.

    SiubhanDuinne

    @Ruckus:

    Those death anniversaries on or very near holidays can be tough. For me the operative two are Halloween (mother) and Valentine’s (father). Neither parent died on the actual holiday but they were close enough that I always make the connection, and the holidays don’t come out particularly well.

    Sympathies.

  105. 105.

    AA+ Bonds

    @wrb:

    Well, then
    __
    Paradise Lost

    An excellent point:

    O unexpected stroke, worse then of Death!
    Must I thus leave thee Paradise? thus leave
    Thee Native Soile, these happie Walks and Shades,
    Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend,
    Quiet though sad, the respit of that day
    That must be mortal to us both. O flours,
    That never will in other Climate grow,
    My early visitation, and my last
    At Eev’n, which I bred up with tender hand
    From the first op’ning bud, and gave ye Names,
    Who now shall reare ye to the Sun, or ranke
    Your Tribes, and water from th’ ambrosial Fount?
    Thee lastly nuptial Bowre, by mee adornd
    With what to sight or smell was sweet; from thee
    How shall I part, and whither wander down
    Into a lower World, to this obscure
    And wilde, how shall we breath in other Aire
    Less pure, accustomd to immortal Fruits?

  106. 106.

    PTirebiter

    @Ruckus: I imagine there were a host of motivations along good old fashion aggression and greed. But it still struck me as interesting. I found myself wondering if it was somehow cultural or something else. Perhaps the blatant oppression has just become institutionalized. I should speculate, I’m sure there’s good info to be found. Anyway, again, my condolences, it must have been a tough day for you.

  107. 107.

    MoeLarryAndJesus

    “Kilkelly” by the Clancys and Robbie O’Connell:

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yN2s0J3Y8mc

    “City of Chicago” by the great Christy Moore:

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIqz7BT5xYM

    And, of course, “From Clare To Here” by Ralph McTell:

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIqz7BT5xYM

    “There’s four who share this room as we work hard for the Craic
    And sleeping late on Sundays I never get to Mass

    It’s a long way from Clare to here
    It’s a long way from Clare to here
    It’s a long, long way, it grows further by the day
    It’s a long way from Clare to here

    When Friday comes around Terry’s only into fighting
    My ma would like a letter home but I’m too tired for writing

    Chorus

    It almost breaks my heart when I think of Josephine
    I told her I’d be coming home with my pockets full of green

    Chorus

    And the only time I feel alright is when I’m into drinking
    It sort of eases the pain of it and levels out my thinking

    Chorus

    I sometimes hear a fiddle play or maybe it’s a notion
    I dream I see white horses dance upon that other ocean

    Chorus

    It’s a long, long way from Clare to here.”

  110. 110.

    Anne Laurie

    @BGinCHI:

    I’m actually not sure it’s really a song about immigrants. More like pillaging.

    VIKING KITTENS!

    My official ancestors were all Celts, Connemara by way of the Scottish Lowlands, but I’m a redhead… as is the Spousal Unit, whose mother was born in Norway. After we moved to Boston from his Midwestern birthplace, he occasionally had to resist the impulse to respond to well-meaning “So, are you going celebrate St. Paddy’s the old-fashioned way?” questions by shouting “Aye — LOOT! PILLAGE! BURN!”

  113. 113.

    Patrick Downing

    To the City of Chicago,
    As the evening shadows fall,
    There are people dreaming,
    Of the hills of Donegal.

    Eighteen forty seven,
    Was the year it all began,
    Deadly Pains of hunger,
    Drove a million from the land,
    They journeyed not for glory,
    Their motive wasn’t greed,
    Just a voyage of survival,
    Accross the stormy sea.

    To the City of Chicago,
    As the evening shadows fall,
    There are people dreaming,
    Of the hills of Donegal.

    Some of them knew fortune,
    And some them knew fame,
    More of them knew hardship,
    And died upon the plain,
    They spread throughout the nation,
    Rode the railroad cars,
    Brought their songs and music,
    To ease their lonely hearts.

    To the City of Chicago,
    As the evening shadows fall,
    There are people dreaming,
    Of the hills of Donegal.

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