I find I have a variety of different musical styles and songwriting interests that I share in this week's show. Plus, I brainstorm writing a song on the fly.

Songs:

• "Rattlin' Bog" by Marc Gunn from 4 Irish Whiskey Pub Songs
• "Skullcrusher Mountain" by Jonathan Coulton from Where Tradition Meets Tomorrow

Notes:

• My different musical performance interests: folk songs, original songs, and nonsensical songs
• Irish-Song-Lyrics.com
• Jonathan Coulton's Thing-A-Week
• Help me write a song. Make a show comment with a who, what, where, why, when, and how. Or just a person, place, or thing.
• My other podcasts: Renaissance Festival Podcast & Irish & Celtic Music Podcast
• Intro music by The Tea Merchants

Foggy Dewmusic traditional, words by Father P. O'Neill

'Twas down the glen one Easter mornTo a city fair rode I.When armed line of marching menIn squadrons passed me by.No pipes did hum, no battle drumDid sound its loud tattooBut the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swellRang out in the foggy dew.

Right proudly high over Dublin townThey hung out a flag of war.'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish skyThan at Suvla or Sud el Bar.And from the plains of Royal MeathStrong men came hurrying through;While Brittania's huns with their great big gunsSailed in through the foggy dew.

O' the night fell black and the rifles' crackMade "Perfidious Abion" reel'Mid the leaden rail, seven tongues of flameDid shine o'er the lines of steel.By each shining blade a prayer was siadThat to Ireland her sons be true,And when morning broke still the war flag shookOut its fold in the foggy dew

'Twas England bade our wild geese goThat small nations might be free.But their lonely graves are by Suvla's wavesOn the fringe of the gray North Sea.But had they died by Pearse's sideOr fought with Cathal Brugha,Their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew.

The bravest fell, and the solemn bellRang mournfully and clearFor those who died that WatertideIn the springing of the year.And the world did gaze with deep amazeAt those fearless men, but fewWho bore the fight that freedom's lightMight shine through the foggy dew.

Ah, back through the glen I rode againand my heart with grief was soreFor I parted then with valiant menwhom I never shall see more.But to and fro in my dreams I go andI'd kneel and pray for you,For slavery fled, O glorious dead, whenyou fell in the foggy dew.

Lyrics to Foggy Dew found here.