Friday June 9, 2000

And on the seventh day, we rested. Well, maybe a little bit.

Friday morning was slated to be a lecture by Gerry Doherty, but Gerry
was ill and had to cancel, so many of us opted to have a nice lay-in
Friday morning. Others of us squeezed in a little shopping in Newry.

Allan Bell from Banagh, he
lived just across the
fields,
A great man for the music
and the dancing and the
reels.
O'Malley came from South
Armagh to court young Alice
fair,
And we'd often meet on the
Ryan Road and the laughter
filled the air.

There were roses, roses
There were roses
And the tears of the people
Ran together

"There Were Roses"
Tommy Sands

Friday afternoon, though, was very special because Tommy Sands and his
wife Katrina joined us for our bus tour of the Mourne Mountains.
Katrina, though originally from France, has spent the last 20 or so
years becoming very knowledgeable about the history and folklore of the
Mourne Mountains. She and Tommy tag-teamed their narration of the
journey, Katrina providing the geographical and folklore history while
Tommy took over to explain the political significance of various places.
It was wonderfully informative and interesting to not only see the
significant places and landmarks, but to hear the stories behind them
from people who are immersed in the culture of the area.

In fact, the highlight of the trip was when the bus pulled over at what
seemed like just an ordinary T-junction. Tommy explained that the road
we were looking down was the Ryan Road, the place made infamous in his
song "There Were Roses." It's also the road on which his family lived
and he grew up. Tommy told us the story behind the song, in greater
detail than the song conveys, about his two friends, one Catholic and
one Protestant, who were killed because of the Troubles. It is a very
personal story which he has turned around and used to show the world the
insanity of the violence. When the story was done, he sang the song,
inviting us to join in, but I'd say we weren't in very good voice for
the lumps in our throats. I know I wasn't.

The mood rejuvenated as we stopped in the village of Ryan to have a pint
at the local pub. The walls were covered with vintage pictures of the
Sands family and other local musicians.

"Makems In the
Wild"

That evening we were back to Lislea for more set dancing and socializing
with local folks -- Martyn was cutting quite a rug that night, I tell
you. Many of us wall-flowers were still recovering from our late night,
though.

After a bit of dancing we needed a pint or three, so it was on to
O'Hanlon's Pub in Mullaghbawn.

Now, O'Hanlon's *has* to be the perfect example of the Irish country
pub. Not one of these plastic-and-chrome-knotwork-on-the-ceiling places,
no, no. This is the authentic stuff, lads. Pints settling on the bar,
shoulder to shoulder patrons in high spirits, and musicians in the
corner -- there's always room for one more musician. And "Ssssshhhhhhh!"
means shaddup and listen, someone's gonna sing!

Appropriately enough, the crowd invited (well, maybe it was more like
commanded) Tommy Makem to sing a song and he sang "Redmond O'Hanlon,"
highwayman of local stock... possibly an ancestor of the publican?

I cannot say enough about how warm and welcoming the local folks were.
(Ok, there _were _a couple lads there that night who were a little too
warm, but I think they were from out of town, too.) We were treated to
lots of local songs, local flavor, microphone-passing and nary a laugh
at our Yank and Dutch accents when we were singing Irish songs. Twas
brilliant craic!

When we finally dragged ourselves out of O'Hanlon's (naw, we weren't
kicked out!) it was back to the hotel, the bar, and our dear friend
Seamus for yet more visiting and songs. We were running out of evenings,
you know!

Kate Akers
Kate Akers, kakers@chivalry.com
Chivalry Music & Internet Publishing
All photos on these pages were
taken by Kate Akers and Jim Gillespie, ©2000.
Reprinting or republication without permission is prohibited.