Annotation:John O'Dwyer of the Glen (1)
X:1 T:John O'Dwyer of the Glen [1] M:C L:1/8 R:Air Q:"Slow and with expression" S:O'Neill - Music of Ireland (1903), No.35 Z:AK/Fiddler's Companion K:D d/e/ | f>efa g e2 c | d>cde f e2 z | A>B cA d>c AG/F/ | G>B AA A3 :| || A/B/ | cA/B/ c/d/e/f/ g2 ef/g/ | a>bc'b a>g f/>A/ B/4c/4d/4e/4 | f>agf f{g/f/}e e{f/d/}c | d>cAA A3 d/e/ | f>eea g e2c | d>cde f<e a>g | f>ded c>A AG/F/ | G>BAA A3 ||
JOHN O'DWYER OF THE GLEN [1] (Seán Ó Duibhir a' Ghleanna). AKA and see "Seán Ó Duibir an Gleanna (1)." Irish, Slow Air (3/4 time). D Major or A Mixolydian (O'Neill): D Minor (Stanford/Petrie): G Major (O'Farrell). Standard tuning (fiddle). AB (Stanford/Petrie): AAB (O'Neill): AABB (O'Farrell). O'Neill states: "Versions (of the song) are almost as numerous as the singers of this fine old air," and he says it was very popular in Munster in a variety of forms and titles. According to (the sometimes very unreliable professor) Grattan Flood (1906), the song commemorates the Glen of Aherlow, which hid for a time the brave Anglo-Irish lord James, Earl of Desmond, after his defeat in September, 1600, at the hands of Captain Greame and the Irish. One version of the melody can be found in Bunting's Ancient Irish Airs of 1796 (a collection of 66 airs, mostly collected from performers at the Belfast Harp Festival of 1792). O'Neill perhaps refers to "Uair Bheag Roimh a' Lá (A Little Hour Before the Day).
A translation of the "John O'Dwyer" lyric goes:
After Aughrim's great disaster
When our foe, in sooth, was master
It was you who first plunged in and swam
The Shannon's boiling flood
And through Sliabh Bloom's dark passes
You led your Gallowglasses
Although the hungry Saxon wolves
Were howling for your blood.
And as we crossed Tipperary
We rived the Clan O Leary
And a creacht we drove before us
As our horseman onward came
With our spears and swords we gored them
As through flood and fire we bore them
Still Seán Ó Duibhir a Ghleanna
You were worsted in the game.
Long, long we kept the hillside
Our couch hard by the rillside
The sturdy knotted oaken boughs
Our curtain overhead.
The summer sun we laughed at
The winter snow we scoffed at
And trusted to our long bright swords
To win us daily bread.
Till the Dutchman's troops came round us
In steel and fire they bound us
They blazed the woods and mountains
Tills the very clouds were flame
Yet our sharpened swords cut through them
To their very hearts we hewed them
Still Seán Ó Duibhir a Ghleanna
You were worsted in the game.
Here's a health to yours and my king
The sovereign of our liking
And to Sarsfield, underneath whose flag
We'll cast once more a chance
For the morning dawn will wing us
Across the seas and bring us
To take a stand and wield a brand
Amongst the sons of France.
And as we part in sorrow
Still, Sea/n O/ Dibhir, a chara
Our prayer is "God Save Ireland"
And pour blessings on her name.
May her sons be true when needed
May they never fail, as we did
For Sea/n O/ Duibhir a Ghleanna
You were worsted in the game.
