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No Reason

by SixMileBridge

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thousands are sailing by phil chevron the island it is silent now but the ghosts still haunt the waves and the torch lights up a famished land that fortune could not save did you work upon the railway did you rid the streets of crime were your dollars from the white house were they from the five and dime did the old songs taunt or cheer you or do they still make you cry did you count the months and years or did your teardrops swiftly dry oh no says he twas not to be on a coffin ship i came here and i never even got so far that they could change my name thousands are sailing across the western ocean to a land of opportunity that some of them will never see fortunes prevailing across the western ocean their bellies full their spirits free they'll break the chains of poverty and they'll dance… in manhattan's desert twilight in the death of afternoon we stepped hand in hand on broadway like the first men on the moon and the blackbird broke the silence as he whistled it so sweet and in brendan behan's footsteps we danced up and down the street then we said goodnight to broadway giving it our best regards tipped our hats to mr cohen dear old times squares favorite bard then we raised a glass to jfk and a dozen more besides when i got back to my empty room i suppose i must have cried thousands are sailing again across the ocean the hand of opportunity draws tickets in our lottery postcards we're mailing of starry skies and oceans from rooms that daylight never sees where lights don't glow on christmas trees but they'll dance… thousands are sailing again across the ocean the hand of opportunity draws tickets in our lottery wherever we go we celebrate the land that makes us refugees from fear of priests with empty plates from guilt and weeping effigies but we'll dance, and we'll dance…
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wild mountain thyme oh the summer time is coming and the trees are sweetly blooming and the wild mountain thyme grows around the purple heather will you go lassie go? and we'll all go together to pull wild mountain thyme all around the purple heather, will you go lassie go? i will build my love a bower by yon clear and crystal fountain and on it i'll place all he flowers of the mountain will you go lassie go? and if my true love, he won't go, i shall surely find no other to pull wild mountain thyme all around the purple heather, will you go lassie go?
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Come Out Ye Black and Tans I was born on a Dublin street where the royal drums did beat And the loving English feet walked all over us, And every single night when me father'd come home tight He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus: (chorus) Oh, come out you black and tans, Come out and fight me like a man Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away, From the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra. Come tell us how you slew Them ol' Arabs two by two Like the Zulus they had spears and bows and arrows, How you bravely faced each one With your sixteen pounder gun And you frightened them damn natives to their marrow. (chorus) Oh, come out you black and tans, Come out and fight me like a man Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away, From the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra. Come let us hear you tell How you slandered great Parnell, When you thought him well and truly persecuted, Where are the sneers and jeers That you bravely let us hear When our heroes of sixteen were executed. (chorus) Oh, come out you black and tans, Come out and fight me like a man Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away, From the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra. Oh, come out ye English Huns Come out and fight without yer guns Show yer wife how you won medals up in Derry Ye Murdered Free Young Men, And you'll do the same again So get out and take yer bloody army with ye (chorus) Oh, come out you black and tans, Come out and fight me like a man Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away, From the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra.
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EASY AND SLOW, Dominic Behan? circa 1955? It was down by Christ Church that I first met with Annie A neat little girl and not a bit shy She told me her father had come from Dungallen And would take her back home in the sweet bye and bye And what's that to any man, whether or no Whether I'm easy, or whether I'm true As I lifted her petticoat, easy and slow And I tied up my sleeve for to buckle her shoe In city or country, a girl is a jewel And well made for holding, the most of the while But any young fellow is really a fool If he tries at the first time to go a bit far We wandered by Thomas Street, down to the Liffey The sunlight was gone, and the evening grew dark Along Whitemans Bridge, and by God in a jiffy My arm was around her, beyond in the park CHORUS If you chance for to go the town of Dungannon You can search till your eyeballs are empty and blind Be you sitting or walking or sporting or standing Another like Annie you never will find
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Gunshots shatter in the peace of night Just another fire fight For the people of this little town But for the dying soldier Well he's feeling ten years older As he's lying face down on the ground All the words that are in his head And all the words his mother said As she would put him to bed back home CH Your daddy well he died in the Falklands Fighting for another man's cause And your brother he was killed in the Last War And your mother well she's lying home alone Every day she sees your face On the picture on the fireplace With your brother as he was leaving school Then a day came five years ago You said, "Mother, I need to know" And you spoke the words your brother spoke before "I seen the things my Daddy's done And I've seen the medals that he's won And I know that this is what he would have wanted for me. " CH Now she wonders at it all Just in whose name do these brave young heroes fall And how many more are going to answer that call They're going to fight and die in another country's war They're going die for a religion they don't believe in at all They're die in a place they should never've been at all Oh, never've been at all CH
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gallipoli / hector the hero i remember the day, it stands clear in my mind we stood down at dun laoghaire to wave you goodbye your ma quietly weeping, there was a tear in my eye as they sent you to gallipoli to die you looked so young as you stood there, the glint in you eye and you sang the rebel songs as the streamers flew high you were only eighteen, yet your mommy and i let you go to gallipoli to die chorus you were all that we had, your mommy and me when you marched with the rest you were proud as could be and it killed you poor ma and it slowly killed me when you were blown to kingdom come on the shores of gallipoli we only got the one letter and we knew right away it said "deepest regrets, your son was bold and he was brave" your ma turned away and i heard her cry "god, they sent you to gallipoli to die" you fought for the wrong country, you died for the wrong cause and your ma often said that it was ireland's great loss all those brave young men who marched to foreign shores to fight the wars when the greatest war of all was at home.
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And come tell me Sean O'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so Husha buachaill hush and listen and his cheeks were all a glow I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon For the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon [Chorus:] By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon For the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon And come tell me Sean O'Farrell, where the gath'rin is to be At the old spot by the river quite well known to you and me One more word for signal token, whistle out the marchin' tune With your pike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon [Chorus:] Out from many a mud wall cabin eyes were watching through the night Many a manly heart was beating for the blessed warning light Murmurs rang along the valleys to the banshees lonely croon And a thousand pikes were flashing by the rising of the moon [Chorus:] All along that singing river that black mass of men was seen High above their shining weapons flew their own beloved green Death to every foe and traitor! Whistle out the marching tune And hoorah, me boys, for freedom, 'tis the rising of the moon [Chorus:] Tis the rising of the moon, 'tis the rising of the moon And hurrah, me boys, for freedom, 'tis the rising of the moon
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restless farewell oh all the money that in my whole life i did spend, be it mine right or wrongfully i let it slip gladly to my friends to tie up the time most forcefully but now the bottles are done, we've killed each one, and the table's full and overflows and the corner sign says it's closing time, so i'll bid farewell and be down the road oh every boy that ever i touched, i did not do it harmfully and every boy that ever i hurt, i did not do it knowingly but to remain as friends you need the time to make amends and stay behind and since my feet are now fast and point away from the past, and bid farewell and be down the line oh every foe that ever i faced, the cause was there before we came and every cause that ever i fought, i fought it full without regret or shame well the dark does die as the curtain is drawn, and somebody's eyes must meet the dawn but if i see the day i'd only have to stay, so i'll bid farewell in the night and be gone oh a false clock tries to tick out my time, to disgrace, distract and bother me and the dirt of gossip flows into my face, and the dust of rumors covers me but if the arrow is straight and the point is slick, it can pierce thought dust no matter how thick so i'll make my stand and remain as i am, and bid farewell and not give a damn oh every thought that's strung a knot in my mind, i might go insane if it couldn't be sprung but it's not to stand naked under unknowing eyes, it's for myself and my friends my stories are sung but the time isn't tall, if on time you depend, and no word is possessed by no special friend and though the line is cut, it ain't quite the end, i'll just bid farewell till we meet again and though the line is cut, it ain't quite the end, i'll just bid farewell till we meet again.

about

SixMileBridge is a tiny little hamlet in County Clare, Ireland, that you may notice on your way from Shannon airport on the way to the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher. Or maybe not. Don't blink, you'll miss it. More about why it's special, read on in the "No Reason" album notes...


The Touhy family, Noel and Carmel and their frighteningly over-accomplished children Errol, Ivan, Ethel, and Hazel, run a B&B with breakfast entertainment by the girls, Hazel on the Irish harp and Ethel on concertina. They have putt-putt golf in their massive front property, sheep in the back, and the most magnificent five hundred year old tomb, get this, in their driveway. It's like a vehicle in the four car parking spot. The image of a child's bicycle toss against it is like time travel, the movement of our civilization, more analogies than I can articulate.

During the making of this record I lost my younger brother to cancer. He was twenty-five years old. I poured my sorrow into creating the collage poster for the original CD package. With the help of Jay Ford it remains one of my favorite pieces of my life. It consists entirely of my photographs from Ireland, Scotland and England, a stone theme with most all the images from either cemeteries or the remains of Roman and Rennaisance structures. I hope you enjoy the photos.

We had bid farewell to Wolf and wished him success in his new endeavour, and welcomed Frances' future husband, Sean. He was a phenomenal addition to the sound and feel of the group. Having grown up at his dad's Irish bar in Manhattan, he added a little more edge and we loved it.

Thanks to Dave Blanton for sitting in with us, a very solid contribution.

Musically, No Reason is more aggressive, to the extent that ever appealed to us. So really rockin stuff here....

credits

released June 2, 1999

Maggie Drennon, vocals, violin, bass
Anders Johansson, guitars, bass, vocals
Frances Cunningham, bouzouki, mandolin, vocals, french horn
Sean Cunningham, Irish flute, whistles, vocals, bagpipes, Irish pipes
Dave Blanton, drums

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Maggie Drennon New York, New York

Maggie Drennon is a premiere voice in Celtic singing, a long standing influence in folk music. She was a founding member of Ceili's Muse in 1989, and SixMileBridge in 1997

Now, with a solo performance that is meaningful yet lighthearted, she is deeply devoted to sharing Celtic traditions with American audiences.

Most importantly she brings us the soaring voice that will inspire your heart!
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