Lyrics: M. Coleman Singer: Liverpool native; English comedian; music hall entertainer; singer, and actor, the late, great Sir Kenneth Arthur Dodd. OBE. (1927 – 2018)
Hold My Hand.
Hello world of yesterday, We’re looking out to find a way, For the children. With a happy song and a happy face, We can make this world a better place, For the children. If all the nations join and sing, The bells around the world will ring, For the children. And what we have we’d like to share, And show you all that the children care, For the children. And when beaming out around the world, To every other boy and girl We’re holding hands and reaching out for all of you. Hold my hand, hold it tight, Hold my hand if you’re yellow, black or white, Children of the world unite, Keep the candle burning bright, Hold my hand if your yellow, black or white. Over the oceans nationwide, You can always reach to the other side, For the children. We can send our love, we can send some smiles, Send love and peace a thousand miles, For the children. We shall leave a guiding light, And sing along into the night, For the children. What a wonderful place this world would stay, If we all held hands each and every day, Like the children. And when singing out around the world, To every other boy and girl, We’re holding hands and reaching out for all of you. Hold my hand, hold it tight, Hold my hand if you’re yellow, black or white, Children of the world unite, See the candle burning bright, Hold my hand if your yellow, black or white. Hold my hand, hold it tight, Hold my hand if you’re yellow, black or white, Children of the world unite, See your candle burning bright, Hold my hand if your yellow, black or white. Hold my hand if your yellow, black or white.
Lyrics: American musician and Nobel Laureate Bob Dylan, originally written as a poem, in response to the Cuban Missile Crisis of October 22nd – November 20th, 1962, which saw confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union. This confrontation quickly escalated into an international crisis, when American deployments of missiles in Italy and Turkey were matched by Soviet deployments of similar ballistic missiles in Cuba. The song is characterized by symbolist imagery, which communicates suffering, pollution, and warfare, latter once again being threatened within our time living on this earth.
Vocals: American singer, songwriter, musician, and activist Joan Chandos Baez.
A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.
Oh, where have you been, my blue eyed son? Oh, where have you been, my darling young one? I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains. I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways. I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests. I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans. I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard, And it’s hard, and it’s hard, it’s hard, and it’s hard, It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall. Oh, what did you see, my blue eyed son? Oh, what did you see, my darling young one? I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it. I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it. I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’. I saw a room full of men with their hammers a bleedin’. I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken. I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children, And it’s hard, and it’s hard, it’s hard, it’s hard, It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall. And what did you hear, my blue eyed son? And what did you hear, my darling young one? I heard the sound of a thunder, is it roared out a warnin’. I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world. I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a blazin’. I heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’. I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’. I heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter. I heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley, And it’s hard, and it’s hard, it’s hard, it’s hard, It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall. And who did you meet, my blue eyed son? Oh, who did you meet, my darling young one? I met a young child beside a dead pony. I met a white man who walked a black dog. I met a young woman whose body was burning. I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow. I met one man who was wounded in love. I met another man who was wounded with hatred, And it’s hard, it’s hard, it’s hard, it’s hard, It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall. Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue eyed son? Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one? Well, I’m a goin’ back out ‘fore the rain starts a fallin’. Well, I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black, Where the people are many and their hands are all empty. Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters. Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison. Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden. Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten. Where black is the color, and none is the number. And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it, And reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it, And I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’. But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’, And it’s hard, it’s hard, it’s hard, it’s hard, It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.
“I’ve Gotta Be Me” was once a popular song that first appeared in the Broadway musical “Golden Rainbow”, which opened in New York City at the Shubert Theatre on February 4th, 1968. The song, which spent seven weeks at No1 on the ‘Easy Listening Chart’, and which is rarely played on radio today, has been used in the past in two advertising commercials to promote soft drinks, namely ‘Diet Coke‘ and ‘Dr Pepper‘ and also the compact crossover, Sports Utility Vehicle (SUV), the ‘Mitsubishi Outlander‘.
“I’ve Gotta Be Me”
Singer: American singer, dancer, actor, comedian, film producer and television director, Sammy Davis Jr. [1925 – 1990] Lyrics: American songwriter, playwright, screenwriter, and novelist, Walter Marks.
Whether I’m right or whether I’m wrong Whether I find a place in this world or never belong I gotta be me, I’ve gotta be me What else can I be but what I am
I want to live, not merely survive And I can’t give up this dream Of life that keeps me alive I gotta be me, I gotta be me The dream that I see makes me what I am
That far away prize, a world of success Is waiting for me if I heed the call I won’t settle down, won’t settle for less As long as there’s a chance that I can have it all
I’ll go it alone, that’s how it must be I can’t be right for somebody else If I’m not right for me I gotta be free, I’ve gotta be free Daring to try, to do it or die I’ve gotta be me.
I’ll go it alone, that’s how it must be I can’t be right for somebody else If I’m not right for me I gotta be free, I just gotta be free Daring to try, to do it or die I gotta be me.
Would you trample, with great boots, On a snowdrop in a field ? Would you crush a little butterfly, With a fist ? Then best be gentle, With a woman’s feelings always, Or she might sting, For your rebuff, With all that you deserve.
END
Tom Ryan, “Iona”, Rahealty, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.
The song sung hereunder, is about the Irish boxer, of the 1930s. Mr Jack Doyle latter who was known as ‘The Gorgeous Gael’. Born into a working-class family on August 31st, 1913 in Cobh, Co. Cork; he would pass away on December 13th, 1978 in Paddington, London, England.
Jack was tall (six feet five inches), good-looking and a multi-talented individual. He was a contender for the British Boxing Championship; a Hollywood actor, and an accomplished Tenor (between baritone and alto), however his often generous nature and love of drink was to be his eventual downfall.
Doyle became involved with the actress Movita Castaneda. Following a celebrity wedding, in Dublin’s Westland Row Church, (Jack’s second wedding; he was previously married, in 1935, to Judith Allen), after which the couple toured both sides of the Irish Sea, selling out Music Halls and Opera houses.
About this time, Jack fought his last professional fight, against a journeyman named Chris Cole. Same took place in front of some 23,000 fans, in Dalymount Park, Dublin. He arrived for the event late, having stopped at The Clarence Hotel for refreshments. The bout saw an inebriated Doyle, go down in the first round. Soon afterwards, having had enough, Movita packed up and moved back to Hollywood, where she would go on to marry film star Marlon Brando.
Doyle, shortly afterwards, found himself in Mountjoy Jail, Dublin, having assaulted and knocked out a Garda Detective, in a Dublin pub. Having moved to England he spiralled downwards into alcoholism and bankruptcy and found his friends had deserted him, as fast as his bank balance, latter spent in his own words on “slow horses and fast women”.
I had the privilege of meeting Jack on several occasions, in the early 1970’s, walking on the sea front in Bray, Co. Wicklow, where he had a flat for a short time. His only source of income during this time was an allowance he continued to receive, by agreement, from former wife Movita.
Sadly, Jack died in 1978, aged just 65 years, at St. Mary’s Hospital, Paddington, in the City of Westminster, Central London; his death caused by cirrhosis of the liver. He is interned in the Old Church Cemetery, on the outskirts of Cobh town, Co. Cork, Ireland, his grave today visited by thousands of people annually.
The Contender.
Singer: Irish (Co. Kildare) Folk Musician, Dan McCabe, [latter who is expected to tour in Co. Tipperary shortly]. Original Lyrics: (Shown Hereunder), From the pen of Cork born Irish singer and songwriter Jimmy MacCarthy.
The Contender. [Original Lyrics]
When I was young and I was in my day, Sure I’d steal what woman’s heart there was, away, And I’d sing into the dawning, Saw a blaze into the morning, Long before I was the man you see today.
I was born beneath the star that promised all. I could have lived my life without Cassandra’s* call, But the wheel of fortune took me, From the highest point she shook me, By the bottle live by the bottle I shall fall.
There in the mirror on the wall, I see the dream is fading, From the contender to the brawl, The ring, the rose, the matador, raving.
And when I die, I’ll die a drunk down on the street. He will count me out to ten in clear defeat. Wrap the Starry Plough* around me, Let the piper’s air resound me, There I’ll rest until the Lord of Love I’ll meet.
There in the mirror on the wall, I see the dream is fading. From the contender to the brawl, The ring, the rose, the matador, raving.
* In Greek Classical Legend, Cassandra was the daughter of Priam and Hecuba, endowed with the gift of prophecy. *Starry Plough, a banner, a socialist symbol, the significance of which it was declared, that a free Ireland would control its own destiny, “from the plough to the stars”.
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