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  • Oh Dannyboy

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    Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
    From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
    The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying
    ‚Tis you, ‚tis you must go and I must bide.
    But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
    Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
    ‚Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
    Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

    And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
    And I am dead, as dead I well may be
    You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
    And kneel and say an „Ave“ there for me.

    And I shall hear, tho‘ soft you tread above me
    And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
    If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me
    I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

    I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.


    Oh Danny Boy, die Dudelsäcke, die Dudelsäcke rufen
    von Tal zu Tal und den Berg hinunter
    Der Sommer ist gegangen und alle Rosen welken
    Das bist Du der gehen muss und ich muss ausharren

    Aber komm´ zurück, wenn der Sommer wieder einkehrt
    oder wenn die Täler leise und weiß mit Schnee sind
    Und ich werde da sein, bei Sonnenschein oder Schatten
    Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy ich liebe Dich so

    Und wenn Du kommst, und alle Blumen sterben
    Wenn ich tot bin, denn tot kann ich ja durchaus sein
    kommst Du und findest den Platz an dem ich liege
    und kniest nieder und sagst ein Ave dort für mich

    Und ich werde Dich hören, so leise Du auch über mich gehst
    und mein ganzes Grab soll wärmer und süßer sein
    wenn Du kommst und mir sagst dass Du mich liebst
    dann werde ich in Frieden schlafen, bis Du zu mir kommst.

    Fred Weatherly’s own description of writing Danny Boy.

    In 1912 a sister-in-law in America sent me „The Londonderry Air“. I had never heard the melody or even heard of it. By some strange oversight Moore had never put words to it, and at the time I received the MS. I did not know that anyone else had done so. It so happened that I had written in March of 1910 a song called „Danny Boy,“ and re-written it in 1911. By lucky chance it only required a few alterations to make it fit that beautiful melody. After my song had been accepted by a publisher I got to know that Alfred Percival Graves had written two sets of words to the same melody, „Emer’s Farewell“ and „Erin’s Apple-blossom,“ and I wrote to tell him what I had done. He took up a strange attitude and said that there was no reason why I should not write a new set of words to the „Minstrel Boy,“ but he did not suppose I should do so! The answer of course is that Moore’s words, „The Minstrel Boy“ are so „perfect a fit“ to the melody that I certainly should not try to compete with Moore. But beautiful as Grave’s words are, they do not to my fancy suit the Londonderry air. They seem to have none of the human interest which the melody demands. I am afraid my old friend Graves did not take my explanation in the spirit which I hoped from the author of those splendid words, „Father o‘ Flynn.“ However, „Danny Boy“ is accepted as an accomplished fact and is sung all over the world by Sinn Feiners and Ulstermen alike, by English as well as Irish, in America as well as in the homeland, and I am certain „Father o‘ Flynn“ is equally popular, as it deserves to be, and its author need have no fear that I shall be so foolish as to write a new version of that song. Here are my words:

    DANNY BOY Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
    From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.
    The summer’s gone, and all the roses falling,
    It’s you, it’s you must go and I must bide.
    But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow,
    Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow,
    It’s I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow,—
    Oh, Danny boy, O Danny boy, I love you so!

    But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,
    If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
    Ye’ll come and find the place where I am lying,
    And kneel and say an Avè there for me.
    And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,
    And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
    For you will bend and tell me that you love me,
    And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me!

    It will be seen that there is nothing of the rebel song in it, and no note of bloodshed. „Rory Darlin'“ on the other hand is a rebel song. It has been set sympathetically by Hope Temple. No doubt if Sir William Hardman were alive, he would forbid it being sung at Surrey Sessions mess.

    Fred E. Weatherly, K.C.

    http://www.standingstones.com/danny3.html

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