I Am Ireland

(Announcer) Major funding for I AM IRELAND is provided by: Charles W.

& Patricia S. Bidwell and The Irish American Labor Council.

Funding is also provided by Flood Brothers, Peter and Mimi O'Brien, Joseph & Susan Power.

A complete list of funders is available online.

[instrumental music] [instrumental music] Good evening, everybody.

[speaking Gaelic] Agus Dia's Muire dhaoibh go li.

You're all very welcome to this evening's very special celebration of Ireland's road to freedom, as told through the songs of her people.

And no better place than to share this amazing story, than in beautiful Old St.

Patrick's Church in Chicago, Illinois.

Twas around noon on Easter Monday, 1916 when a bunch of poets, socialists, ill-armed men and women-- about 1,600 in all-- they took a bold step for Ireland's pathway to freedom and ultimately her Independence as a Free nation.

Now, when word reached Lord Beaverbrook in London of the Easter rising, he called his friend, Tim Healy, in Dublin and said: [phone ringing] They had phones back then!

[phone ringing] "Ah Tim, is there a rebellion?"

"There is!"

"And when did it start?"

"When Strongbow invaded Ireland."

Now that, of course was about the 12th century.

"And when will it end?"

"When Oliver Cromwell gets out of hell.

[song: Risn Dubh, Translation: My Dark Rosaleen] [singing in Gaelic] O My Dark Rosaleen Do not sigh, do not weep The priests are on the ocean green They march along the deep There's wine from the royal Pope Upon the ocean green And Spanish ale shall give you hope My Dark Rosaleen My own Rosaleen Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope Shall give you health, and help, and hope My Dark Rosaleen Wasn't that a lovely air that you all just heard?

That was Risn Dubh, My Dark Rosaleen, written for the Irish people during the penal times of the 16th century as a safe way to talk about Ireland and not be persecuted.

The Irish love of music, however, and the crafting of the music to the stories that's put before us, well, this can be traced right back to what's known as the bardic tradition of the 12th century.

So, here poets composed songs for their Gaelic Chieftains to honor them.

Over the centuries, it was these bards, these wandering poets, who were to become the voice of a nation, often putting words to the feelings of our people at the time.

And whereas, once, the bard's voice was rich in high spirits and lofty ideals, over time this voice became more sad as our nation became overshadowed by its neighbor.

Sadness turned to revolt.

[music begins] My people, many of your ancestors, were beat down again and again.

But for those of you who know the Irish, you know that we never give up and we never forget!

So we came up with all sorts of ways of imagining Ireland.

We imagined Ireland in the form of a beautiful woman, or as we say in the Irish Language, a beautiful spirbhean, who would came to revive our spirits and our fortunes.

[music: Ar irinn n Neosfainn c h] [Translation: For Ireland I'd not tell her name] There's a home by the wide Avonmore That would sweep o'er the broad open sea And wide rivers where the waves wash ashore Whilst bulrushes they wave to the breeze Where the green ivy clings 'round the door And the birds sweetly sing on each tree O me darling they're tuning they're notes Is ar irinn n neosfainn c h This was Ireland's call to its people.

And it was out of this call that a new type of bard came about, a bard versed in expressions of justice and equality, who wrote new types of songs: songs of hope, songs to inspire, and songs of rebellion.

The Irish people have kept these songs alive because they have represented our people's own powerful emotions and desires.

And as Paddy Galvin, one of Ireland's great poets coined it well by saying, "History and song are one."

[music] [music] The time is 1798, and the fires of rebellion are burning brightly once again all over Ireland.

Now Ireland of the late 1700s had increasingly looked to the outside world for its inspiration: The United Irishmen.

Now they were a group comprised of Catholics and Protestants, and they learned from the French Revolution and the American Revolution that the only way that Britain would really listen is if we took the battle to them.

Their leader was a man called Theobald Wolfe Tone.

He was a Protestant from the North of Ireland and he went to France to seek help from their king.

"From my earliest youth, I have regarded the connection "between Britain and Ireland as the curse of the Irish nation, "and felt convinced, that, whilst it lasted, "this country could never be free nor happy, "and that Ireland was not able, of herself, "to throw off the yoke, I knew.

"I therefore sought aid, wherever it was to be found "and remained faithful "to what I thought the cause of my country, "and sought in the French Republic an ally to rescue three million of my countrymen."

Now, fair play to the French.

They did send 16,000 troops over to Ireland with Wolf Tone to "sort it out."

But, of course, what they never reckoned on, and probably which many of you have experienced, the dirty wet windy weather of Ireland.

Well, this prevented the landing of the troops.

The United Irishmen were now on the run.

However, a decision was taken to continue on with the revolt across different parts of Ireland.

And in the town of Granard Co Longford, the signal to revolt was at The Rising of the Moon.

[music: The Rising of the Moon] And come tell me, Sean O'Farrell Tell me why you hurry so Hush, mbuachaill, hush and listen And his cheeks were all aglow I bear orders from the captain Get you ready quick and soon With your pikes upon your shoulder By the rising of the moon By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon With your pikes upon your shoulder By the rising of the moon And come tell me Sean O'Farrell, Where the gath'rin is to be In the old spot by the river Right well known to you and me One more word for signal token Whistle up the marching tune With your pikes upon your shoulder By the rising of the moon By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon With your pikes upon your shoulder By the rising of the moon By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon With your pikes upon your shoulder By the rising of the moon Hey [music] Well, they fought for poor old Ireland And full bitter was their fate Oh, what glorious pride and passion Fills the men of '98 Yet thank god for manhood's bleeding hearts That gathered at the moon We'll follow in their footsteps At the rising of the moon By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon We'll follow in their footsteps At the rising of the moon By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon And hurrah me boys for freedom 'Tis the Rising of the Moon Perhaps the most successful of the 1798 rebellions took place near New Ross, Co Wexford, the ancestral home of John F. Kennedy.

And the leader of that rebellion was none other that John Kelly, the boy from Killane!

[music: Kelly the Boy from Killane] What's the news, what's the news O me bold Shelmalier With your long barrel gun of the sea Say, what wind from the south brings a messenger here With a hymn of the dawn for the free?

Goodly news, goodly news shall I bring youth of Forth Goodly news shall I hear Bargy man For the boys march at dawn from the south to the north Led by Kelly, the boy from Killane We are the boys of Wexford Who fought with heart and hand To burst in twain the galling chain And free our native land Up steps the captain's daughter The captain of the Yeos Saying, brave United Irishmen We'll ne'er again be foes A thousand pounds I'll give thee And fly from home with thee And dress myself in man's attire And fight for liberty We are the boys of Wexford Who fought with heart and hand To burst in twain the galling chain And free our native land Elsewhere in that great County of Wexford having witnessed the burning of some of his parishioners' homes as British Soldiers searched for rebels, a reluctant leader, Father John Murphy, led the parish of Boolavogue in a revolt against the invaders.

[music: Boolavogue] At Boolavogue as the sun was setting O'r high May meadows near Shelmalier A rebel hand set the heather blazing And brought the neighbours from far and near Then Father Murphy from old Kilcormack Spurred up the rocks with a warning cry Arm, arm, he cried, for I've come to lead you For Ireland's freedom we'll fight or die [musical interlude] At Vinegar Hill o'er the pleasant Slaney Our brave heroes stood back to back And the yeos of Tullow took Fr.

Murphy And burned his body upon the rack God grant you glory, brave Fr.

Murphy And open heaven to all your men For the cause that called you may call tomorrow In another fight for the green again In another fight for the green again Ah, the bould Father Murphy.

[speaking in Gaelic] Sagairt den chad scoth.

A priest of the first choice!

By 1803, however, a new leader of the United Irishmen had emerged, Robert Emmet, the son of a doctor and student at Trinity College, Dublin.

Well, he too went to France to seek help from their king, but wasn't it the weather!

The dirty weather again that prevented the landing of the troops.

Sure, don't we know in Ireland, now, 'Tis always the weather!

I should also point out that if you thought that what all the rebel leaders did was fight all the time, you would be surely wrong.

For they too, like us all, are in search of a bit of-- a bit of "loveen," and a bit of romanticism in their lives!

And Robert Emmet was no different.

He fell in love with Sarah Curran, the daughter of John Curran, and it's many a love letter they wrote to each other, all of which was encoded so as not to reveal who Sarah was.

Well, after a failed insurrection in 1803-- nothing to do this time with the bad weather, just poor planning-- Emmet was on the run.

He was captured about a month later.

He had in his left coat pocket a copy of all the letters that he and Sarah wrote to each other.

Well, it wasn't too long before they found out who Sarah was.

Fearing for her life, she fled to Italy.

She was far from the land, but her heart remained with her sweetheart.

She is far from the Land where her young hero sleeps And lovers around her are sighing But coldly she turns from his grave and weeps For her heart in his grave is lying For Emmet, as the 25-year-old leader of the United Irishmen, his speech at the dock would be his last stand.

"Speech, Speech!"

My Lords, what have I to say that the sentence of death shall not be pronounced upon me, according to law.

I have nothing to say that can alter your predetermination.

Sentence was already passed before your jury was.

The man dies, but his memory lives.

I pray that my memory may animate those that survive me.

I have been accused of the importance in the efforts to emancipate my country, as to be the keystone in the combination of Irishmen.

You do me honor over much.

I do not fear the approach of the omnipotent judge, to answer for the conduct of my whole life.

I am going to my cold and silent grave.

My race is run.

I have but one request to make from my departure of this life, it is the charity of its silence.

Let no man write my epitaph.

For since no man who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them.

Let them and me rest in obscurity and peace and my tomb remain uninscribed and my memory in oblivion until other times and other men can do justice to my character.

When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not 'til then, let my epitaph be written.

I HAVE DONE.

By memory Inspired and by love of country fired The deeds of men I love to dwell upon And the patriotic glow of my sprit must bestow A tribute to the men who have gone boys gone Of all the brave young men who have gone September 1803 saw this cruel history When Emmet's blood the scaffold flowed upon Our heroes died that we might in time Our freedom see So here's a health to all the men Who have gone boys gone Of all the brave young men who have gone The spirit of Tone and Emmet lived on through the immortal sacrifices they made for The Wearing of the Green.

We may have been down, but we were far from out!

[music: Wearing of the Green] O Paddy dear, now did ye hear The news that's goin' round The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground Saint Patrick's Day no more we'll keep His colors can't be seen They're hangin men and women for the Wearin' of the Green Ah, I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand And he said, How's poor old Ireland, and however does she stand?

She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen They're hanging men and women for the Wearin' o' the Green Yes, they're hanging men and women For the Wearin' o' the Green [music] [Music: The Knotted Chord Irish] [Music: The Knotted Chord Irish] [Music: The Knotted Chord Irish] The British Empire, seeking to once and for all bring Ireland under the "hammer" sought to establish Ireland as part of England, Scotland and Wales, "both for now and for evermore."

And through the Act of Union in 1801, which cemented the Protestant minority control, Ireland now lost her Parliament, but was soon to lose her voice.

It was a quick Cork witted person who summed it all up by saying: The law doth punish man or woman That stole the goose from off the common; But lets the greater felon loose That stole the common from the goose.

The national spirit was at last invaded as people began to look to London rather than Dublin as their capital.

And as the English language became the language of education for a people who were still Gaelic speaking, the Irish language decayed.

[music: Mo Ghile Mear, Translation: "My Gallant Hero"] [singing in Gaelic] Once I was a gentle maiden And now, I'm a weak and worn-out widow My spouse powerfully ploughing the waves Beyond the hills and far from here My gallant lad is my hero He's my hero, gallant lad I found neither sleep nor happiness, Since my gallant went far away My gallant lad is my hero He's my hero, gallant lad I found neither sleep nor happiness Since my gallant went far away Now it should be remembered that we did achieve Catholic Emancipation during that time through the gallant efforts of Daniel O' Connell.

Daniel O' Connell: The Liberator and his monster rallies.

Indeed, the American abolitionist, Frederick Douglas, was one of the attendees of these rallies at the time and what a symbol of the spirit and determination of those fleeing persecution over the centuries lives on.

However, the dark cloud of oppression continued to hang over Ireland as we were continued to be ruled by a foreign government.

And just as Ireland edged closer into the dark cultural abyss, and as Theobald Wolfe Tone lay in his grave in Bodenstown cemetery, another great leader emerged whose romantic cries for "A Nation Once Again" did not fall on deaf ears.

And that man's name was Thomas Davis.

Thomas Davis, the leader of the Young Ireland movement, the editor of the highly inspirational newspaper, The Nation.

For it was said that Thomas Davis stood at the head of Wolfe Tone's grave and imagined how his Young Irelanders could re-invigorate the cause for an Irish nation.

[music: A Nation Once Again] When boyhood's fire was in my blood I read of ancient freemen Of Greece and Rome who bravely stood Three hundred men and three men And then I prayed I yet might see Our fetters rent in twain And Ireland, long a province, be A Nation once again A Nation once again, A Nation once again And Ireland, long a province, be A Nation once again Michael Collins would say of Davis, he said that "He spoke to the soul of a sleeping nation, "drunk with the waters of forgetfulness.

"He sang to them of the old splendor of Ireland, "of the glory of noble strife, of the beauties of the land, and the delights and richness in Gaelic life."

[music: The West's Awake] When all beside a vigil keep The West's asleep, The West's asleep Alas and well may Erin weep That Connacht lies in slumber deep There lake and plain smile fair and free Amid rocks their guardian chivalry Sing, oh, let man learn liberty From crashing winds and lashing sea [music] The Star of the West shall rise in its glory And the land that was darkest be brightest in story I too shall be gone but my name shall be spoken When Erin awakes and her fetters are broken And if, when all a vigil keep The West's asleep The West's asleep, Alas and well may Erin weep That Connacht lies in slumber deep But, hark, a voice like thunder spake The West's awake, The West's awake Sing, oh, Hurrah Let England quake We'll watch 'til death for Ireland's sake But the vision that Thomas Davis had foreseen was overshadowed by the Great Famine of 1845.

The Potato!

That most splendiferous of spud!

We Irish love our potatoes.

Introduced by Sir Walter Raleigh in 1589, It was seen as a safe way to feed the people of Ireland, while other crops that were grown were exported all over the British empire.

Indeed, it wasn't too long before this wonder crop became the daily staple diet of the Irish people.

But in reality, this was a disaster waiting to happen.

For when the crop failed that year, there were to be immediate consequences for the native Irish.

[music: The Famine Song] Oh, the praties they are small over here, over here Oh, the praties they are small and we dig them in the fall And we ate them skin and all over here, over here The Bishop of New York at the time was a man called John Hughes.

In one of his famous sermons from St.

Patrick's Cathedral, at that time, Bishop Hughes would go on to say that: "The Irish Famine will be remembered for two reasons: "the first real mass starvation of a country, and secondly, "the American sympathy and support which ensued and which has not stopped to this day."

Now, the London Times had a different take on it.

It reported at the time: "It appears that the Irish does not like to work.

"Soon a Celt will be as rare on the banks of the Liffey as a red man is on the banks of the Hudson."

Now everybody thought that the crop failure of that year was just a once off.

In fact, the crop of 1846 promised to be a bumper harvest and many people believed the danger of famine was over.

But they were wrong.

The crop failed again.

Suddenly, there was a great rush to dig and sell or eat the crop or give it to the pigs and animals for feeding before it would rot.

But it was too late.

The Irish nation was brought to its knees.

Oh, we wish that we were geese Night and morn, Night and morn Oh, we wish that we were geese And could live our lives in peace 'Til the hour of our release eating corn, eating corn Oh, we're down into the dust, over here, over here Oh, we're down into the dust, but the God in whom we trust Shall repay us crumb for crust over here, over here It is said that the Irish passed through three stages: At first, they faced starvation manfully to accept grudged help, then they were mad with despair, then they were full of hopeless resignation.

And as they lay on the side of the roadways, in places such as Skibbereen in West Cork, the locals could be heard praying: The Hunger is on us, 'Tis the will of God, may the will of God be done.

The Hunger is on us, 'Tis the will of God, may the will of God be done.

The Hunger is on us, 'Tis the will of God, may the will of God be done.

'TWAS ANYTHING BUT THE WILL OF GOD.

For approximately one million people died, a million more emigrated.

A third of those who managed to get on the coffin ships as they were called at the time, died on route because of the condition of the boats they travelled in.

And by 1854 over two million Irish people-- that's a quarter of the population of Ireland at the time-- had immigrated to these United States.

[music] [music: Skibbereen] Oh, father dear I do oft-times hear you speak of Erin's isle Her valleys green and her lofty scenes Her mountains rude and wild They say it is a lovely land whereon a prince might dwell Oh, why did you abandon it, ah the reason to me tell Oh son, I loved my native land with energy and pride 'Til a blight came over all my crops And my sheep and cattle died The rent and the taxes were to pay I could not them redeem And that's the cruel reason why I left old Skibbereen Oh father dear, that day will come When vengeance loud will call When Irish men with feelings stern Will rally one and all I'll be that man to lead the van beneath the flag of green And loud and high we'll raise the cry And revenge for Skibbereen And loud and high we'll raise the cry And revenge for Skibbereen As Ireland starved, there was huge outpouring of support across America.

I'm personally moved by the compassion shown to the Irish people by the Choctaw Indian nation, who in themselves were undergoing their own challenges.

But they still managed to collect $170 and sent it over to Ireland.

Now that's the equivalent of about $5,000 in today's terms.

And fast forward to the current COVID Crisis in America, and one of the most badly hit areas was the Navajo nation in Arizona, and the Irish were not found wanting here, and sought to pay back that debt, by donating over 3 million dollars to support their fellow human being as an act of solidarity and love.

[music interlude:Mn na hireann Translation: Women of Ireland] [music interlude:Mn na hireann Translation: Women of Ireland] [music interlude:Mn na hireann Translation: Women of Ireland] (Paddy) Now you remember my earlier comments about how the Irish people imagined Ireland in the penal times in the form of a beautiful woman or an "aisling."

Well I'd like to say a few words now about the Women of Ireland, Mn na hireann, for they were more than just a dream, for they played a powerful role in Ireland's struggle for freedom.

It was Maud Gonne who in 1900 established Inghinidhe na hireann, the Daughters of Ireland, and they wandered the length and breadth of the country supporting their fellow countrymen who had been evicted from their lands.

Indeed Maud Gonne would later recall that Irish music, ceili music sessions, were the hallmark of every land eviction and where every great rebel song was sung to welcome home their leaders.

Songs like, r, s do bheatha bhaile, were sung to welcome home their leaders, like Countess Markeviecz.

Indeed Markeviecz would be second in command of the battalion in St.

Stephen's Green in 1916.

And legend has it that that over 50,000 Irish people sang this song to Markeviecz as she was led down O' Connell Street in Dublin having been released from Brixton Prison.

[music: r, s do bheatha 'bhaile] [Translation: You're very welcome home] Hurrah, you're very welcome home Hurrah, you're very welcome home Hurrah, you're very welcome home Now and at the coming of summer Hail, oh woman, who was so afflicted It was our ruin that you were in chains Your fine land in the possession of thieves While you were sold to the foreigners Hurrah, you're very welcome home Hurrah, you're very welcome home Hurrah, you're very welcome home Now and at the coming of summer Grace O'Malley is coming over the sea Armed warriors as her guard Only Gaels are they, not French nor Spanish And they will rout the foreigners Hurrah, you're very welcome home Hurrah, you're very welcome home Hurrah, you're very welcome home Now and at the coming of summer Hurrah, you're very welcome home Hurrah, you're very welcome home Hurrah, you're very welcome home Now and at the coming of summer By the early 20th century, as Britain fought in the First World War, the winds of change were in the air.

Irishmen fought in that war too, including my grandfather.

In fact some 210,000 Irish men fought in that war, and they fought heroically.

But the Irish rebels see this as the opportunity to fight for Ireland once and for all.

And this leads up right up into the beginnings of Easter 1916.

Now, how do ya think that we took on the great empire?

Well, than none other than in the setting up of a Tobacco shop.

That's right!

You see, the Irish Republican Brotherhood leader, in New York, John Devoy, sent his right hand man, Tom Clarke, back to Dublinto set up a Tobacco Shop.

At the time, tobacco shops were seen as the place where people hung out for a chit chat.

And with his friend, San MacDiarmada, they went about uniting the various cultural, literary and nationalist forces together.

Like the school teacher and poet, Pdraig Pearse, who walked in that same oratory tradition of Robert Emmet and Thomas Davis.

Like the poet, Joseph Mary Plunkett, who understood the romanticism for what was being sought.

And men like James Connolly, a social and civil rights activist, who was actually from Scotland and who championed social and civil rights and led the Irish Citizen Army in Dublin.

Well, how do ya think we first kicked things off?

Well, through none other than a good 'ould Irish bawdy funeral!

You see, the great rebel leader, Jeremiah O' Donovan Rossa, he had just died in St.

Vincent's Hospital, on Staten Island in 1915.

Tom Clarke said, well O' Donovan Rossa may have been dead, but I'll get a bit of good out of O' Donovan Rossa yet.

And so he decided to send a one-sentence telegram back to John Devoy in New York saying, "Send his body home at once."

And that's exactly what happened.

Speaking at the graveside funeral of Jeremiah O' Donovan Rossa in 1915, Pdraig Pearse concluded to many thousands of Irish people: "They think they have pacified Ireland.

"They think that they have purchased half of us "and intimidated the other half, "think they have provided against everything, think they have foreseen everything, but the fools, the fools, the fools!

They have left us our Fenian dead, and while Ireland holds these graves, Ireland unfree shall never be at peace."

[music] The seeds of rebellion had now been sown.

The stage was set and the call went out!

Now, we had some scheduling issues on Easter Sunday.

I won't go into it, but perhaps too many Chiefs in the one camp!

But not on the Easter Monday.

Not so!

For here we are on Easter Monday 1916, with 1600 volunteers marching down O' Connell Street in Dublin; marching over to the General Post Office and raising the Irish flag over the GPO declaring an Irish Republic.

[music: Amhrn na bhFiann] [Irish National Anthem "The Soldier's Song"] Soldiers are we Whose lives are pledged to Ireland Some have come from a land beyond the wave Sworn to be free, no more our ancient Ireland Shall shelter the despot or the slave Tonight we man the Bearna Baoil In Erin's cause come woe or weal 'Mid cannon's roar and rifle's peal We'll chant a soldier's song It was the beginning of the end of British Rule in Ireland.

The rebellion lasted just over a week and 16 of its leaders were executed by firing squad.

This instilled a spirit of rebellion throughout the country.

The Rising inspired William Butler Yeats to write one of his most famous poems, Easter 1916.

[music] I write it out in a verse: MacDonagh and MacBride, Connolly and Pearse, Now and in time to be, Wherever green is worn, All's changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.

As down the glen one Easter morn To a city fair rode I There armed lines of marching men In squadrons passed me by No pipe did hum, no battle drum Did sound its loud tattoo While the Angelus bellowed o'er the Liffey's swell Rang out through that foggy dew Right proudly high over Dublin town They flung out the flag of war It was better to die 'neath an Irish sky Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar And from the plains of Royal Meath Strong men came marching through While Britannia's huns with their great big guns Sailed in through that foggy dew [music] But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell Rang mournfully and clear For those who died that Eastertide In the spring time of the year While the world did gaze in deep amaze At those bravest men, but few Who bore that fight that freedom's light Might shine through that foggy dew So, there ya have it, Easter 1916!

I like to think it was the moment when the Epitaph for Robert Emmet could finally begin to be written, as Ireland stepped out to take her place among the nations of the world.

That moment, and the many steps taken by so many over the previous 200 years, will be forever remembered in the legacy of these songs.

A Nation once again, A Nation once again And Ireland, long a province, be A Nation once again A Nation once again, A Nation once again And Ireland, long a province, be A Nation once again (Announcer) Mayor funding for I AM IRELAND is provided by: Charles W.

& Patricia S. Bidwell and The Irish American Labor Council.

Funding is also provided by Flood Brothers, Peter and Mimi O'Brien, Joseph & Susan Power.

A complete list of funders is available online.