Original subtitles

They were the first people to settle in Ireland.

They had tremendous insight

and hidden knowledge of many things.

They had knowledge

of the future.

They could speak the language of the birds.

They could see as the birds can see from the sky above.

They could look over the whole land.

Sweeney.

St. Ronan cursed him because he killed one of his clerics.

From a vision he saw in the sky,

he heard the noise of the upcoming battle and fled.

Part of the curse was that he could not endure sharp sounds.

He flew from the scene of battle in a frenzy.

He spent years hopping from tree to tree,

for he couldn't set foot on land again.

And, like the birds, he could never trust humans again.

Gloomy this life...

to be without a soft bed.

Abode of cold frost.

Roughness of wind-driven snow.

Cold, icy wind.

Shadow of a feeble sun.

Shelter from a single tree

on the summit of a tableland.

Who created you?

God created me.

What else did God create?

God created all things.

Where is God?

God is everywhere.

Can you see God?

No, you cannot see God, but he can always see me.

Very good.

Does God know all things?

Yes, God knows all things.

- Past. .. - Past, present, and tomorrow.

Even our most secret thoughts and actions.

Well done.

Will God judge our most secret thoughts and actions?

Yes, every idle word that men shall speak,

we'll render an account for it on the day of judgment.

Good work.

We'll do another bit tomorrow.

Now, you were all to learn a song from home.

Who will go first?

Darach?

Joseph.

Come up and sing the song you learned at home, good man.

I know you're dying to sing for us.

Come along, Joe.

Well done. Good boy.

Didn't he sing well?

Now, from now on,

when you're singing, open your mouth.

Like this. Open wide.

Very good.

And sing out every note clearly.

Imagine you had to get a hen's egg into your mouth.

Open it up.

Good man. Now, sit down.

This one won't budge.

Neither will this one.

There are loads of periwinkles.

Good lad.

That's it.

Throw it out quick.

Good lad.

- I have it. - Good man.

Now, haul it in.

Haul it in.

That's it.

Good man yourself. That's it.

Use both hands.

That's it. Good man.

Do you have it?

- Need a hand? - Maybe.

Hang on.

That was good.

Is it getting the better of you?

I can't do it.

Let's see now.

Hold the potato like so...

Place the potato between your thumb

and the knife like that.

Hold it with two fingers, either side,

and cut through it nice and easy.

Don't do it too hard...

or it'll catch your thumb.

See that?

Good man. Let's see you try that.

Don't be worried. It'll come with age, child.

Nice and easy, in your own time.

Mind the fingers.

Good man yourself.

- Have you many left? - A few.

Joe!

Hey, Joe! Stop your carrying on!

For God's sake!

isn't your father a fine singer?

Would you sing me a song?

I could record your voice with this device.

- What do you say? - I only sing at home.

Isn't this your home?

Which songs do you like anyway?

I like “An tAmhrán Bréagach.”

And “Amhrán Rinn Mhaoile.”

“Amhrán Rinn Mhaoile”?

That's quite a difficult song for a young lad, isn't it?

Do you know where they come from?

My dad sings them

and Colm an Bhlácaigh.

Mm-hmm.

And where did they get them?

I suppose they go way back

to the poets who wrote them long ago,

but we still sing them.

Hmm!

Now, what would you say to that!

♪ Come all you loyal heroes ♪

♪ Wherever you may be ♪

♪ Don't hire with any master ♪

♪ Until you know ♪

♪ What your work will be ♪

♪ For you must rise up early ♪

♪ From the clear daylight till dawn ♪

♪ And I'm afraid I never will be able ♪

♪ To plow the rocks of bawn ♪

♪ My shoes, they are well worn ♪

♪ My stockings, they are thin ♪

♪ My heart is always trembling ♪

♪ Afraid I might give in ♪

♪ My heart is always trembling ♪

♪ From the clear daylight till dawn ♪

♪ And I'm afraid I never will be able ♪

♪ To plow the rocks of bawn ♪

- Here you are. - Might as well.

Here, finish it!

Ah, geez.

- Might as well finish it! - Throw it back, son.

- We don't have another bottle? - No!

The one thing I suppose that's lacking from my memories as a kid

is memories of my father,

because, um, there were just times when for whatever reason,

he decided he wanted to be on the move.

Um, he would more or less sort of just go at a moment's notice.

And I think most of the time my mother wasn't quite sure

where he was or when he would come back.

He disappeared round about 1954 or '55,

by which stage I would be about five years old.

Let's say four years old, rather.

He only reappeared when we moved to King Street in Whitecrook.

That would probably be about early 1961.

We're ready, Joe.

Ah, here comes “The Rocks of Bawn,” huh?

♪ Ah, from there I got away Me spirits never failin' ♪

♪ Landed on the quay ♪

♪ As the ship was sailing Captain at me roared ♪

♪ Said that no room had he When I jumped aboard ♪

♪ A cabin found for Paddy Down among the pigs ♪

♪ Played some hearty rigs I danced some hearty jigs ♪

♪ The water round me bubblin' ♪

♪ When off Holyhead Wished meself was dead ♪

♪ Better far instead I'm on the rocky road to Dublin ♪

♪ One, two, three, four, five Hunt the hare and turn her ♪

♪ Down the rocky road And all the way to Dublin ♪

♪ Hunt the hare and turn her Down the rocky road ♪

♪ And all the way to Dublin ♪

♪ The boys of Liverpool When we safely landed ♪

♪ Called myself a fool ♪

♪ I could no longer stand it Blood began to boil ♪

♪ Temper I was losin' Poor old Erin's Isle ♪

♪ They began abusin' ♪

♪ “Hurrah, me soul,” says I Shillelagh, I let fly ♪

♪ Galway boys went by Saw I was a-hobblin' ♪

♪ With a loud hooray Joined in the affray ♪

♪ Quickly cleared the way For the rocky road to Dublin ♪

♪ One, two, three, four, five Hunt the hare and turn her ♪

♪ Down the rocky road And all the way to Dublin ♪

♪ Hunt the hare Turn her down the rocky road ♪

♪ And all the way to Dublin ♪

Whoo!

Whoo!

Whoo-hoo!

The mind has to be completely blanked out

when you go into a song in sean nós, no distractions.

Well, when you're focused on it, when you're in the emotion of the song,

you won't hear or see anything else around you.

- So, like, you're alone. - You are. You are.

You're all alone for those couple of verses.

♪ In Oranmore ♪

♪ In the County Galway ♪

♪ One summer's morning ♪

♪ In the month of May ♪

♪ He spied Colleen ♪

♪ She was tall and handsome ♪

♪ And she nearly Stole his poor heart away ♪

♪ She wore no jewels ♪

♪ Nor costly diamonds ♪

♪ No paint or powder ♪

♪ Oh, none at all ♪

♪ She wore a bonnet ♪

♪ With red roses on it ♪

♪ And on her shoulder ♪

♪ Hung the Galway shawl ♪

♪ As they kept walkin' ♪

♪ They kept talkin' ♪

♪ Till his father's cottage Came into view ♪

♪ Very soon his mother Had the kettle boiling ♪

♪ But all he could think of Was the Galway shawl ♪

♪ He sang “The Blackbird” ♪

♪ And “The Stack of Barley” ♪

♪ And “Rodney's Glory” ♪

♪ And “The Foggy Dew” ♪

♪ She sang each note Like an Irish linnet ♪

♪ Till down her cheeks ♪

♪ Fell the tears like dew ♪

♪ She set off early a'

♪ Oh, next morning ♪

♪ To hit the road for Donegal ♪

♪ She kissed and hugged him ♪

♪ And then she left him ♪

♪ And she stole his heart ♪

♪ In her Galway shawl ♪

Whoo!

Mícheál Thaidhg bought a new boat recently,

a trawler.

He'll do well around these parts.

You might never come back, Joe.

There's nothing left for me here.

I don't know...

I miss this place...

You always had your eye on the horizon.

♪ My young life has passed ♪

♪ Which makes me feel dreary ♪

♪ When in exile I'm cast ♪

♪ On the plains of the prairie ♪

♪ Come hunt the red man ♪

♪ The panther and the beaver♪

♪ And to gaze back with pride ♪

♪ On the bogs of Shanaheever ♪

I am the age of the Old Hag of Beara.

The age of Newgrange.

The age of the Great Deer.

I have 2,000 years of that stinking sow that was Ireland

resonating in my ears,

in my mouth,

in my eyes,

in my head,

in my dreams.

These horses, each with the hammer and sickle on their flanks,

they were the horses of the Emir of Bokhara.

They were the Golden Horde,

Genghis Khan's cavalry.

They were also the slender brown horses

in my father's and grandfather's stories.

And who truly knows that they were not?

For no one knows through what wild centuries roves back the rose.

You have a pretty good singing voice.

And what brought you to the States?

Um, I sang in a big show.

I came over to do a festival. Newporg, in 1965

And do you sing with a band, or...?

No, I sing by myself

What's up, Joe?

Nothing's up. Everything is fine.

Boiled egg again, Joe?

It's very hard to eat with you looking down my gob!

Cheer up, huh?

Late night last night?

Did you tell the super

about the water drip in that one's apartment?

I'll tell him after lunch.

She left everything to her two dogs.

We sure got some kooks!

Trixie and Coco.

She told me she took them to the merry-go-round one time

and they liked it very much.

♪ We'll see the priest this very morning ♪

♪ And tonight we'll lie In our marriage bed ♪

♪ But the red-haired girl She kept on smiling ♪

♪ “I'll go with you, young man” She said ♪

♪ “We'll forget the priest This very morning ♪

♪ And tonight we'll sleep In Murphy's shed” ♪

♪ Keep your hands off red-haired Mary ♪

♪ Her and I are to be wed ♪

♪ We'll forget the priest This very morning ♪

♪ And tonight we'll sleep In Murphy's shed ♪

♪ Through the fair we roamed together ♪

♪ My black eye and her red hair ♪

♪ Smiling gently at the tinker ♪

♪ Oh, by God, we were the handsome pair ♪

♪ Keep your hands off red-haired Mary ♪

♪ Her and I are to be wed ♪

♪ We'll forget the priest This very morning ♪

♪ And tonight we'll lie In Murphy's shed ♪

Thank you very much.

Do you feel homesick here, Joe?

Sometimes.

Sometimes not.

Why do you feel homesick?

It's hard, leaving your native land and forgetting it.

Have you forgotten it?

That's not what I mean, but forgetting the fun

and the people and the songs,

the music and the entertainments, the races, things like that.

I've only been here a little under three years.

But I was at the Newport Folk Festival in 1966.

But I must say now, and back then too,

that the Clancy Brothers gave me great help in getting those things.

- When you started here? -

♪ Ocean ♪

♪ One pleasant evening ♪

♪ In the month of June ♪

♪ When all the feathered songsters ♪

♪ Their liquid notes did sweetly tune ♪

♪ It's there I met a female ♪

And on her features ♪

♪ Were signs of woe ♪

♪ Conversing ♪

♪ With young Bonaparte ♪

♪ Concerning the Bonny Bunch of Roses, O ♪

Well, we didn't know where he was, you know.

And the last... The first we'd heard about him,

I was at a Clancy Brothers concert.

And I used to hear Joe talking about the Clancy Brothers.

So I made it my point to meet one of them, which I did,

and I asked if he knew Joe, and he said, “Oh, yes, very much so.”

He says, “Actually he's over in New York. We just left him.

We've come over here and we're going back there.”

So I said, “Will you tell him his wife's dead

and to contact his children?”

Which he didn't do.

♪ For you must rise up early ♪

♪ From the clear daylight till dawn ♪

♪ I'm afraid you'll ne'er be able ♪

♪ To plow the rocks of bawn ♪

I still think it's the best song of the lot, like.

Yeah, I do too.

I said, when you do a concert without singing that song, it seems incomplete.

I know what you mean.

When did you learn it?

Ah, when I was going to school.

- Did you learn it from your father? - Well, they all had...

- What do you mean, going to school? - Huh?

What do you mean, going to school?

Well, when I was a boy.

That's what I was talking about.

There are certain songs you have to... you have to get.

And when you get it, it doesn't mean so much to you.

It's before, when you wanted it, that it means a lot to you.

Then you get it and that's it.

It's a... It's a song I had to have.

Do you remember singing that one in public?

I remember... The first...

I tell you now, the first time I ever sung that song...

there was a next-door neighbor getting married

and we were all invited to the wedding.

And I sang them two songs.

But nobody saw me singing

because I was hiding behind the door while I was singing.

That's true. That's true.

- How old were you? - Huh?

Uh, 12.

- Twelve? - Yeah.

That was the first time I ever sang that song.

My father said, he said...

“I'm glad you sang,” he said.

“You sang right,” he said.

“But I wish,” he said, “you wouldn't keep it up

till you know what you're doing.”

And that's the most solid advice I ever got.

Oh, they all said that I sang them well.

- Did he hear you singing it? - Yeah, he was there.

Huh.

I probably didn't sing it... well,

or with any feeling, you know,

because I-I didn't know what I was doing

or understand what I was doing.

But I developed my own way of doing it.

I put myself in Sweeney's place.

Now, when there are several characters in either a song or a story,

how do you decide which character you become?

I put myself in the place of the man who's felling,

who's-who's the main part of that story.

We'll say I'm telling the story about Finn McCool.

Now, I'm looking at Finn McCool.

I put myself as a person who is satching this thing happening.

But he is the main character there, Finn McCool.

But I'm watching him. I'm following him all along the path that he's taking.

So in other words, you're both following him along the path,

you're watching him, but you're also playing him.

- You are him at the same time then? - Yeah.

I'm putting myself in his shoes although I'm only following him.

Joe, what you mean is you get the feelings as if you were him.

Yeah, well, that's what it means.

But you see him as being not you.

I'm following him...

That song was in the book he showed me yesterday.

- Oh, yeah? - Yeah.

I said, “How dare you sell me some book?”

I said, “You call that a good book with 'Mursheen Durkin' in it?”

Oh, come on!

Oh, he said, he said... And the man said I was perfectly right.

Yeah, but that doesn't...

- Books can't be perfect. - Oh, I know, I know.

- You have to have a mixture. - I know, I know.

Even that book in there has some terrible songs in it.

I... I know, I know.

And then he said, “I want you to write down all the ones that you know.”

And I said, “I will not write down all the ones that I know,

because I wouldn't be seen dead with them.”

Why? Come on!

That song... “Paddy, Paddy was a gentleman.”

So what? Do you know it?

Paddy should be a gentleman. Oh, I heard them.

♪ Goodbye, Mike, and goodbye, Pat And goodbye, Kate and Mary ♪

♪ The anchor's weighed, the gangway's up I'm leavin' Tipperary ♪

Know what I mean?

“How... How can you buy all the flowers in the sky?

How can you buy two blue Irish eyes?”

I put a five star on that one, know what I mean?

Five star?

♪ I'm off to Philadelphy in the morning ♪

♪ With me shillelagh under me arm And a twinkle in me eye ♪

Listen, they're improved when you sing 'em anyway.

At least... At least it's you.

Thank you.

But I won't. I still won't do it.

You should though, because it could be interesting to see

if they're the same or different from what other people are singing.

Thank you, dear,

but I would be...

I'd be getting away from something that I believe in, and I won't do that.

- I'm not saying to do them in concert. - Oh, no, no.

I'm saying there's nothing wrong with singing them for him...

I can sing all them songs for you if you want me to.

You could label it, “Songs That Joe Heaney Knows But Doesn't Like.”

♪ Sure, a little bit of heaven Fell from out the sky one day ♪

♪ And it nestled on the ocean In a spot not far away ♪

Are you sure you're Irish?

There Was, uh, this character back home

and his name was Cathal Buí Mac Giolla Ghunna.

He was most known for a poem he had written called “An Bonnán Buí.”

In the poem, he laments the death of a little bird from thirst,

and he taunts those who warn him that he himself will die of thirst.

Anyway, when Cathal Buí was dying,

he was still wandering about from place to place.

An old woman got him refuge, and a bed.

She went off to summon the priest for him.

Eventually, when they got to the house where Cathal Buí was...

they found him dead in the bed.

And there scribbled on the wall was a poem he had written

confessing all his sins.

You know that ifs never too late, Joe, to go back.

They might be happy to see you.

I know that, I know that...

But I think that too much water has passed under the bridge.

I went to England last year

and met my father.

I was going to write to tell you, but I changed my mind.

I hadn't seen him since I was five years old, you know that.

My grandmother and I went over to search for him,

and we finally found him.

He was in London.

He plays music himself from time to time.

Do you know what he said to me when we found him?

He said, “I always knew that you'd find me.”

Do you know...

in all the old stories...

why it is that the warrior always kills the beast?

I don't know.

Because it' is the warrior who tells the story.

How do you mean?

Sometimes I don't know

if I'm the warrior...

or the beast.

There were fish in Ireland's rivers.

There were animals in her hollows.

Wild, monstrous creatures roamed her plains and forests.

Creatures that one could see through and walk through.

We lived in ease and saw new animals grow.

The bear, the badger, the boar, the deer, and the wolf.

Then, sudden as a rising wind, between night and morning,

there came a sickness...

and on the seventh day, all of Partholón's race were dead,

all except one single man.

“I am that man,” his companion affirmed.

Tuan shaded his brow with his hand...

and he remembered back through incredible ages

to the start of his life

and the beginning of time in Ireland.

Listen, Máire,

I've a list of songs I haven 't yet recorded anywhere,

and I believe it would be good to record them.

Look, Máire, I have to find some way out of this country.

Huh?

I don't want to die amongst strangers.

There are fine people here, but they are not my own people.

If there was some way I could...

Mmm?

Maybe you could ask around and see...

Look, Máire, I 'd better go now.

There are people here waiting to use the phone.

We'll talk about it again. Goodbye.

I haven't seen you here before.

How long have you been here?

Seven years.

That's a long time.

I would wait twice as long for a poem.

Have you caught good poems?

The poems I am fit for.

No person can get more than that...

for a man's readiness is his limit...

and often, the slow hound catches its prey.

It was foretold by a man of knowledge

that I should receive All Knowledge by the bank of this river.

And then?

And then,

I would have All Knowledge.

And after that?

What should there be after that?

I mean, what would you do with All Knowledge?

A question of great weight.

I could answer it if I had All Knowledge, but not until then.

What would you do, young man?

I would make a poem.

I was born at night.

That's why I was always so shy, they said.

My mother told me stories.

My father taught me to sing.

And when I had grown

and had listened to the world's song,

I felt that there could be no greater happiness

than to return to that song.

In song dwelled the most precious

and the most incomprehensible dreams of mankind.

The mountains stretched into the heavens in those days.

The songbirds of the air listened in wonder to this song,

the most beautiful song in life.

Birds don't sing songs of glory

Ice wrapped wings That's my story

♪ A stór mo chroí ♪

♪ When you're faraway ♪

♪ From the home you'll soon be leaving ♪

♪ And it's many a time By night and day ♪

♪ Your heart will be sorely grieving ♪

♪ Oh, the stranger's land ♪

♪ Might be rich and fair ♪

♪ And riches and treasure golden ♪

♪ You'll pine, I know ♪

♪ For the long, long ago ♪

♪ And the love that's never olden ♪

♪ A stór mo chroí ♪

♪ In the stranger's land ♪

♪ There is plenty of wealth and wailing ♪

♪ While gems adorn The rich and the grand ♪

♪ There are faces with hunger tearing ♪

♪ Though the road is weary And hard to tread ♪

♪ The lights of their city may blind you ♪

♪ You'll turn, ♪ a stór ♪

♪ To Erin's shore ♪

♪ And the ones you left behind you ♪

♪ A stór mo chroí ♪

♪ When the evening sun ♪

♪ Over mountain and meadow is falling ♪

♪ Won't you turn away From the throng and listen ♪

♪ And maybe you'll hear me calling ♪

♪ The voice that you'll hear ♪

♪ Will be surely mine ♪

♪ Oh, somebody speedy returning ♪

♪ A rún, a rún♪

♪ Will you come back soon ♪

♪ To the one who will always love you? ♪