Lyrics: Derry born Irish musician, songwriter and record producer, Phil Coulter. Vocals: Dublin born Irish folk singer and guitarist, Paddy Reilly.
The first three verses of the song hereunder reflect on the simple lifestyle Phil Coulter grew up with in Derry, while the final two deal a period known as ‘The Troubles’. He laments how his placid home-town had suddenly become a major military outpost, plagued with violence and death. The final verses of his song include a wish and a message of hope.
The Town I Loved So Well.
In my memory I will always see, The town that I have loved so well, Where our schools played ball by the gas-yard wall, And we laughed through the smoke and the smell. Going home in the rain, running up the dark lane, Past the jail and down behind the fountain. Those were happy days in so many, many ways, In the town I loved so well. In the early morning the shirt-factory horn, Called women from Creggan, the Moor and the Bog, While the men on the dole played a mother’s role, Fed the children and then walked the dog. And when times got rough there was just about enough, But they saw it through without complaining. For deep inside was a burning pride, For the town I loved so well.
There was music there in the Derry air, Like a language that we could all understand. I remember the day when I earned my first pay, When I played in the small pick-up band. There I spent my youth and to tell you the truth, I was sad to leave it all behind me. For I’d learned about life and I’d found me a wife, In the town I loved so well.
But when I’ve returned, how my eyes were burned, To see how a town could be brought to its knees, By the armoured cars and the bombed-out bars, And the gas that hangs on to every breeze. Now the army’s installed by that old gas-yard wall, And the damned barbed wire gets higher and higher. With their tanks and their guns, oh, my God, what have they done, To the town I loved so well.
Now the music’s gone but they carry on, For their spirit’s been bruised, never broken. Though they’ll not forget till their hearts are set, On tomorrow and peace once again. For what’s done is done and what’s won is won, And what’s lost is lost and gone forever. I can only pray for a bright brand new day, In the town I loved so well.
Lyrics: British folk singer-songwriter, folk song collector, labour activist and actor, the late James Henry Miller (1915 – 1989), better known by his stage name Ewan MacColl. Vocals: Dublin born Irish singer, folk musician and actor, the late Luke Kelly(1940 – 1984).
Come My Little Son.
Come me little son, And I will tell you what we’ll do. Undress yourself and get into bed, And the tale I’ll tell to you. It’s all about your Daddy, He’s a man you seldom see, For he’s had to roam, Far away from home, Far away from you and me.
[Chorus:] Remember laddie he’s still your Dad, Though he’s working far away. In the cold and heat all the hours of the week, On England’s motorway.
Now when you fall, And hurt yourself, And get a feeling bad, It isn’t any good to go running for your Dad. For the only time since you were born, He’s had to spend with you, He was out of a job, And he hadn’t a bob, He was signing on the brew.
[Repeat Chorus]
Sure we’d like your Daddy here, Yes, sure it would be fine, To have him working nearer home, And to see him all the time, But beggars can’t be choosers, And we have to bear our load, For we need the money your Daddy earns, A working on the road. Remember laddie he’s still your Dad, And he’ll soon be home to stay, For a week or two with me and you, When he’s built the motorway. END.
Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, And the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, Somewhere very near, Just round the corner.
The great Leitrim native Seamus O’Rourke, writer, director, actor, poet and independent producer (Big Guerilla Productions) has a chance meeting with “The Beardy Buck in the Long White Gown”.
Look out for that “Buck in the Long White Gown”.☻☻
The 60s American singer-songwriter, Mr Johnny Tillotson, has sadly passed away at the age of 86 years. His wife Nancy has stated that the singer died on April 1st, due to complications from Parkinson’s disease, while at his home in Los Angeles, surrounded by his family.
Announcing his death on Facebook she stated: “It is with a broken heart that I write to let you know that the sweetest, kindest man I ever met Johnny Tillotson, left earth for Heaven yesterday. He was my best beloved, champion of my realm, knight of my heart. Someone said, that sometimes right in the middle of an ordinary life you get a fairy tale. The day I met him I got mine. He was funny, generous and kind. A gentleman through and through. He loved and was grateful to his fans, as he once said, they made every dream, I ever had, come true. Once again on his behalf I say thank you for that”.
One of his songs/lyrics, “It Keeps Right On a Hurtin” was recorded by numerous artists, including Elvis Presley, Dean Martin, Conway Twitty and Bobby Darin.
The singer and teen idol was a two-time Grammy nominee, and in 2014, he was inducted into America’s Pop Music Hall of Fame.
Mr Tillotson is survived by his wife Nancy of 45 years, his son John and John’s wife, stepdaughter Genevieve and his grandchildren, Nia, Jackson, Georgia and Gwyneth, his brother Dan and sister-in-law Virginia
Send Me The Pillow You Dream On.
Lyrics: American country music singer and songwriter, the late Hank Locklin(1918 – 2009) Vocals: American singer and songwriter, the late Johnny Tillotson(1938 – 2025)
Send Me The Pillow You Dream On.
Send me the pillow that you dream on, Don’t you know that I still care for you? Send me the pillow that you dream on, So darling, I can dream on it, too. Each night while I’m sleeping oh, so lonely, I’ll share your love in dreams that once were true. Send me the pillow that you dream on, So darling, I can dream on it, too. I’ve waited so long for you to write me, But just a memory’s all that’s left of you. Send me the pillow that you dream on, So darling, I can dream on it, too. So I can dream on it, too.
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