The Tumultuous Wedding of the Thistle and the Rose

I could just quote the e-mail sent to me by the composer/arranger of “Thistle and Rose (with ‘Ye Bonnie Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon’),” Phyllis White, in answer to my inquiries about her thought processes as she wrote the piece, and you’d be quite well informed. I will indeed quote her later in this post. Have to say that it’s a total joy when I can communicate with living musicians as I’ve been able to do here.Let me first, though, unpack the symbolism of the thistle and the rose, which stand for Scotland and for England respectively. The story about the thistle comes from an incident in Scotland’s history:

It was 1263 when King Haakon’s fleet of battle-hardened Norsemen was blown off course and landed on the shores of Largs in Ayrshire. To their delight there was a sleeping Scottish army nearby. Not suspecting an attack, the Scottish were doomed to suffer an ambush. The Norsemen removed their boots in preparation for sneaking up on the slumbering soldiers. Fortunately, a field of thorny thistle flowers surrounded the Scottish. One Norse soldier, stepping on a thorn, yelled out in pain. This scream woke the Scottish men, who jumped into action and slaughtered the invading Norsemen. (“History and Legends of the Thistle”)

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An Irish folk song with hazy roots and several meanings–“Oró, sé do bheatha abhaile”

Grainne Mhaol Ni Mhaille statue, Westport House, in Westport, County Mayo, accessed via Wikipedia

Oh man! Have I chased down a number of rabbit trails about this seemingly-simple song.

Here’s what seems to have happened: The inestimable Wikipedia says, “Similarly to many folk songs, the origins of this song are obscure.” To put it mildly! However, it seems to be the case that sometime in early Irish/Celtic history (and who knows what time period this actually was) a tradition developed of “hauling the bride home,” which took place a month after the original wedding and consisted of the new bride’s being “hauled” to her now-husband’s house. It isn’t clear to me where she’d stay for that month–at her father’s house, one would guess, but who knows? It’s important to note that the original folk song (if there is indeed such a thing) consisted only of the chorus.

Anyway, here’s how (we think) it went, again from Wikipedia:

The “Hauling home” was bringing home the bride to her husband’s house after marriage. It was usually a month or so after the wedding, and was celebrated as an occasion next only in importance to the wedding itself. The bridegroom brought home his bride at the head of a triumphal procession—all on cars or on horseback. I well remember one where the bride rode on a pillion behind her husband. As they enter the house the bridegroom is supposed to speak or sing:
Oro, sé do bheatha a bhaile, is fearr liom tu ná céad bo bainne
Oro, sé do bheatha a bhaile, thá tu maith le rátha.
Oro, welcome home, I would rather have you than a hundred milch cows:
Oro, welcome home, ’tis you are happy with prosperity [in store for you].”
The piper, seated outside the house at the arrival of the party, playing hard [i.e. with great spirit]: nearly all who were at the wedding a month previous being in the procession. Oh, for the good old times!

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“A Parting Glass” Is Offered to Those Who Stay Behind

PictureThere are many versions of this song, with varying words and melodies. I’ve tried to distill the various ideas down into something digestible, always keeping in mind that it’s a folk song and its origins are therefore murky. The initial inspiration may have come from a farewell letter written by Scotsman Thomas Armstrong on the eve of his execution in 1605 for border raiding. Here’s what he wrote:

This night is my departing night, For here nae langer must I stay;
There’s neither friend nor foe o’ mine, But wishes me away.
What I have done thro’ lack of wit, I never, never, can recall;
I hope ye’re a’ my friends as yet; Goodnight and joy be with you all!

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Hard drinking and highway robbery—Whiskey & the Wild Rover

IImage by JamesDeMers from Pixabay

Several years ago, my own choir, the Cherry Creek Chorale, performed the suite Letters from Ireland, with arrangements of folk songs and also excerpts from letters. all put together by the contemporary composer/arranger Mark Brymer. I was so taken with the music that I wrote a companion book covering historical and literary information for the pieces. It’s available on this website and also from Amazon.

For our upcoming Celtic concert in March 2025 we’re singing just one arrangement from the suite, so I’ve extracted that material and am providing it for free on the blog. I’d encourage you, if your choir is singing the entire work, that you get the book.

For one section, Brymer combines two songs, “The Wild Rover” and “Whiskey in the Jar.” Here’s what I had to say about these two songs:

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Is the song “Grace” based on real people and events?

Gifford standing outside Kilmainham Jail on 2 May 1916; image accessed via Wikipedia

The answer is a resounding “Yes!” You just never know until you start diving into a piece how much you can find out. Such is the case here–I’ve had quite a time finding out about the tragic love story of the Irishman Joseph Mary Plunkett and his beloved Grace Gifford. It’s hard to know even where to start, but here goes:

You may have looked at Joseph’s full name and questioned why his middle name is “Mary.” Was that his mother’s name, perhaps, and he had no sisters to carry it on? No. It was a symbol of his deep Roman Catholic faith and his devotion to the Virgin Mary. (I’m assuming that he added the name himself.) Plunkett seems at first glance to be a contradictory figure in Irish history, combining religious mysticism and hard-headed military abilities. In reality, though, Ireland’s desire to be an independent country and not under Protestant English rule stemmed at least in part from its loyalty to Catholicism. So Plunkett could help plan a violent bloody uprising against the British government and see it as a profoundly moral cause, which is exactly what he did with his fellow Irish revolutionaries in the spring of 1916 for an event known as the “Easter Uprising” because it started in Dublin on the Monday after Easter. “Wait!” you might say, “1916? World War I is going on at the same time. How did anyone have spare energy for carrying out a revolution?” Good question. In reality, at least part of the reason for this specific rebellion was that it was seen as a way for Irish men to escape conscription into the British army to fight in that war, since they certainly had no great loyalty towards England.

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Why is the song “Amazing Grace” so popular, and, as a sidenote, why is it seen as particularly suitable for the bagpipes?

A Canadian bagpiper playing “Amazing Grace” during a memorial service, 29 October 2009, at Forward Operating Base Wilson, Afghanistan. Image soure Wikipedia

Probably everyone who’s attended some kind of Christian funeral has heard this hymn, as it’s especially popular for those occasions. And you can see why. The words are beautiful and striking, and the melody is at the same time lovely and singable. What’s not to like?

Then there’s the backstory to the song, which contains drama and irony in about equal parts: John Newton, a slave trader, is converted to Christianity and leaves his dreadful business, becoming a part of the anti-slavery movement. We all love a good redemption story, don’t we?

Real life, however, is seldom if ever so simple and straightforward. The more you delve into a person’s actions the more complicated and messy they become. I used the example in an earlier post about fractals, those designs that reveal new layers as they are magnified. There is never an end to the detail. The same is true in your life, even if you think of it as rather mundane. So it is with John Newton.

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Amazing Grace Part II: How did a hymn written by a former slave trader become an icon of the civil rights movement?

JohnNewtonColour.jpg
Contemporary portrait of Newton; image source Wikipedia.

We left John Newton on the way back to England after having been rescued from slavery to the African Princess Peye. Be sure to go back and read Part I if you haven’t done so already to find out how he got himself into this pickle to begin with. The ship ran into a severe storm off the coast of Ireland and almost sank. At this point of crisis Newton turned to God, praying for mercy. The storm died down and the ship was able to reach port. For the rest of his life Newton marked the anniversary of this event: March 10, 1874. However, he didn’t give up participation in the slave trade, signing on with a slave ship after he got back to England and making several more voyages. He did not leave active participation in this horrible business until he suffered a stroke in 1754, when he stopped going to sea but continued to invest in others’ efforts. It isn’t clear to me exactly when he gave up even that support of slavery. Here’s a good summary from Wikipedia, however:

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Is It Better to Take the High Road or the Low Road?

View of loch lomond
View of Loch Lomond; Image accessed via Wikimedia Commons

They’re both sad, but for one road the person is dead and for the other the person is grieved/bereaved. Which is which depends on the interpretation of the song you prefer.

Let me start by warning you that the history behind this innocuous-sounding song is right in my wheelhouse, or up my alley, or whatever expression you want to use. I’ll try to rein myself in, but it’s going to be hard. So hang in there with me to find out more than you thought possible about a song you’ve probably heard many times but never questioned. Let me just quote the chorus before we get started:

O you take the high road, and I’ll take the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

 The person who takes the low road is going to get to Scotland first but won’t ever see his or her true love again. So who’s speaking, and what’s going on?

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So, What’s Up with the Celts, Anyway?

PictureCeltic crosses, Celtic love knot jewelry, Celtic dancing, Celtic music . . . it’s an industry. Since my own choir, the Cherry Creek Chorale, does a Celtic-themed concert every other year, I wanted to find out more about the history of this term. Turns out that, as is usual when you try to reconstruct the past, especially the ancient past, it ain’t all that easy to nail things down. We’re used to thinking in terms of clear-cut events and eras when we look at history, but those divisions are often more for the sake of convenience than reflections of actual reality.

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