Absolute perfection. Such a gentle touch on accordion, beautiful timbre in Kris' voice, haunting violin playing. Heartbreaking atmosphere. Repeat play...
yes all the top fiddlers have had classical training or they could not move about on the instrument so much...they do not have the hostility to one or the other form and training which sadly some musicians do
@@sarahnelson9998 Thank you for reply ...It can be a pity when some people see these things in opposition ....with some it seems to be a rooted objection to any classical training.
1873, when the Grand Banks fishery was at its apex. Fishers and schooners from Massachusetts were as plentiful as Fishers and schooners from Newfoundland. We had such powerful connections with New England prior to 1949.
Seeing as the lyrics are impossible to find, here: 'Tis of a sad misfortune In the year of '73. I stepped on board a fishing ship, Right off of a drunken spree. Her name it was the Eastern Light As you might understand We were bound out on a salt sea trip To the banks of Newfoundland. On Saturday, being the first of March, When we left Gloucester port, The girls all wove their handkerchiefs As we sailed down the shore. We had a jar of rum on board, And we gathered 'round our crew, We drank our health to those Gloucester girls, Who were bidding us adieu. "It's early in the morning, boys," Our cook, he gives the call, "Get out and get your breakfast, boys, Get out and haul your trawl!" You've scarce got time to light your pipe When your dory, she do go, And you have to make three runs a day, No matter how hard it blows. We fished around them foggy banks, For the space of seventeen days. We boarded a couple of Frenchmen but No brandy could we raise. The halibut, they being kind of scarce, We run our codfish gear. An' our skipper, he swore we'd fill her up, If it took us half a year. We fished around them foggy banks When our skipper, he loud did shout, "Come, hoist aboard your dories boys, And break your anchors out. Come hoist up our big mains'l, And we'll get her under way, Provisions are getting kind of scarce, And we can no longer stay" And now our anchor's on our bow, And we are homeward bound, And when we gets to Gloucester port, We'll pass the glass around. We'll go down to Johnny MacLeod-y's, And we'll have a happy night, We'll drink our health to those Gloucester girls, And success to the Eastern Light. Yes, we'll drink our health to those Gloucester girls, And success to the Eastern Light!
Slight correction on this verse: Come hoist up our big mains'l, And we'll get her under way, For visions are getting kind of scarce, And we can no longer stay" It's "Provisions are getting kind of scarce" - ie, they have to head back to port b/c they're running out of food to maintain the crew!
Is this really an unknown air, or is "Unknown Air" the title? It bears a strong resemblance to this video: ru-vid.com/video/%D0%B2%D0%B8%D0%B4%D0%B5%D0%BE-2QPUyDhQaTE.html
And here in the UK outside number 10 Downing Street and outside the home of our deplorable Home Secretary Suella Braverman. Herself of immigrant parents!
RIP Clem, sorry you couldn't find peace on this earth. I'll have a beer with you and laugh at your crazy hats in the next one. Keep a place for me mate.
We say we're not like them A generation ago We came on the same ships we were hidden below We came seeking protection Away from the strife Away from the struggles and the hardships of life I'm not an incomer My parents were ghosts Sir I was born here So where would I go? There's ghosts on the motorway The world is on fire There's ghosts on the sandflats as the water gets higher and higher There's ghosts in the brothels Behind thick stony walls There's ghosts and their children in prison food halls I'm not an incomer My parents were ghosts Sir I was born here So where would I go?
Duncan is my favorite.These Scots need no big studios ,mixing boards or producers hanging around-they just bring their gear int the pub or someone's living room & start the countdown...
'Tis of a sad misfortune In the year of '73. I stepped on board a fishing ship, Right off of a drunken spree. Her name it was the Eastern Light As you might understand We were bound out on a salt sea trip To the banks of Newfoundland. On Saturday, being the first of March, When we left Gloucester port, The girls all wove their handkerchiefs As we sailed down the shore. We had a jar of rum on board, And we gathered 'round our crew, We drank our health to those Gloucester girls, Who were bidding us adieu. "It's early in the morning, boys," Our cook, he gives the call, "Get out and get your breakfast, boys, Get out and haul your trawl!" You've scarce got time to light your pipe When your dory, she do go, And you have to make three runs a day, No matter how hard it blows. We fished around them foggy banks, For the space of seventeen days. We boarded a couple of Frenchmen but No brandy could we raise. The halibut, they being kind of scarce, We run our codfish gear. An' our skipper, he swore we'd fill her up, If it took us half a year. We fished around them foggy banks When our skipper, he loud did shout, "Come, hoist aboard your dories boys, And break your anchors out. Come hoist up our big mains'l, And we'll get her under way, For visions are getting kind of scarce, And we can no longer stay" And now our anchor's on our bow, And we are homeward bound, And when we gets to Gloucester port, We'll pass the glass around. We'll go down to Johnny MacLeod-y's, And we'll have a happy night, We'll drink our health to those Gloucester girls, And success to the Eastern Light. Yes, we'll drink our health to those Gloucester girls, And success to the Eastern Light!
