Thanks so much for your continued support.
with love
colleen

I hope you had a wonderful and safe St. Patrick’s Day Celebration last week!  Since I last wrote I have been back and forth to California two times and up to Washington just as many.  It was a whirlwind month of travel and music with my dear friends Stuart Mason and John Weed as we road tested a new band that we call Story Road (www.storyroadband.com).  The good news is that it went very well!  We had a great time, met some wonderful people, saw some friends we made the last time I was in California, and were joined for the last week of shows by Johnny B. Connolly and some wonderful stepdancers.  There really isn’t bad news at all, unless waiting until September to play in that combination counts as bad news.  They’re getting ready to release a new record with David Brewer as Molly’s Revenge (www.mollysrevenge.com) and we’ll catch up with them a couple of times over the summer and autumn at various festivals.

As for the Colleen Raney Band, we head to Seattle tomorrow (Saturday, March 23rd) for a wonderful show hosted by the Seattle Folklore Society at Phinney Neighborhood Center beginning at 7:30pm.  It would be so great to see you, and please invite all of your friends.  For those not in Seattle, we have shows in Eugene and Roseburg in mid April, and I am going to be playing a solo show (yikes!!) on March 30th at The Cannon Beach History Center.  I better practice my guitar a bit!  Off to California again at the end of April and then Las Vegas for a week!  That should be pretty fun.

I’ll wait to tell you about the new record in next month’s email.  If you want to see photos of our travels as the various bands, please check out my instagram account (www.instagram.com/colleenraney).  It keeps me sane in the car on those long drives!

UPCOMING COLLEEN RANEY SHOWS OF NOTE

MAR 23 – Seattle, WA – Phinney Neighborhood Center www.seafolklore.org
MAR 30 – Cannon Beach, OR – Cannon Beach History Center www.cbhistory.org/

More shows will be added in the next week so please check back again soon!

Mark played guitar, Cali McKasson joined in on piano, Matt Jerrell on percussion, Hanz played flutes and wrote the instrumental break one afternoon in my grandmother’s living room as we were working on the album arrangement.

Both sets of my grandparents were married for over 50 years, and my parents are approaching their 56th wedding anniversary this year.  Things like this feel mercifully concrete when you’ve lost track of everything and don’t know how to start over.

Oh to sing you to sleep tonight
I would write you my heart
If only wishes were turned to stars
I’d fill the whole night sky
I’d fill this long night sky

A tempest rises from in my soul
A restless, wandering child
I raise my eyes and the tears fall down
To wash the whole night sky
Over this long night sky

My mother gave him these fifty years
My father gave her his heart
And they’ve been walking now hand in hand
Across the whole night sky
Into that long night sky

So I will sing me to sleep tonight
I will raise up my heart
And hang it on a constellation there
To light the whole night sky
As strong as this long night sky

The song was written in the late 19th century in Scotland by a young woman who was courted by a fisherman (Fear a’ Bhàta translates as The Boatman in Scots Gaelic).  They were married soon after it was published.

How often haunting the highest hilltop
I scan the ocean, a sail to see
Will it come tonight, love, will it come tomorrow
Will it ever come, love, to comfort me

Fear a’ Bhàta, no horo eile
Fear a’ Bhàta, no horo eile
Fear a’ Bhàta, no horo eile
O fare thee well, love, where’er you be

They call thee fickle, they call thee false, love
And seek to change me but all in vain
For Thou art my dream yet through the dark night
And every morning I watch the main

There’s not a hamlet, too well I know it,
Where you go wandering or stay awhile
But all its old folk you win with talking
And charm its maidens with song and smile

Do you remember the promise made me,
The tartan plaidie, a silken gown
That ring of gold with thy hair and portrait
That gown and ring I will never own

There was a battle in the north and nobles there were many
And they have killed Sir Charlie Hay and laid the blame on Geordie

And he has written a long letter and sent it to his lady
“You must come up to Edinburgh town to see what news of Geordie”

“Go fetch to me my good grey steed; my men will all go with me
And we will neither eat nor drink ’til Edinburgh town does see me”

When first appeared the fatal block and then the axe to head him
And Geordie coming down the stairs with bands of iron upon him

Though he was chained in fetters strong of iron and steel so heavy
Oh not a one in all the court was so fine a man as Geordie

And now she’s down on her bended knee, I’m sure she’s pale and weary
“Oh pardon pardon noble sir and give me back my dearie”

“Go tell the heading man make haste” our king replied full lordly
“Oh noble sir, take all I have but give me back my dearie”

The Gordons came and the Gordons ran and they were stark and steady
and aye the word among them all was “Gordons keep you ready.”

An aged lord at the king’s right hand said “Noble sir but hear me
Let her count out five thousand pounds and give her back her dearie”

Some gave her marks, some gave her crowns, some gave her dollars many
She’s counted out five thousand pounds and she’s gotten again her dearie.

She glanced blithe in her Geordie’s face, says “dear I’ve bought thee Geordie
But the blood would have flowed upon the fields before I lost my laddie.”

He clasped her tight round her middle small, and he kissed her lips so rosy
The fairest flower of womankind is my sweet bonny lady.

You Monaghan sportsmen I pray you draw near,
To a few simple verses you quickly shall hear,
It’s the deeds of a hero that lives near Ballybay,
And they call him Hugh Jackson, I hear people say.

And more to his praises I’m going to explain,
So if you will assist me, I’ll sing about Jane,
Search Ireland all over from Cork to Kildare,
And you’ll ne’er find a match for Hugh Jackson’s gray mare.

He went to the stable, to the mare he did say,
‘The hour is approaching and we must away,
For a cup at Cootehill you have twice won with fame,
And this day we are challenged, and you must run again’.

She turned in her stable, ‘Kind Sir, don’t you know,
This cup is my own and I won’t let it go,
For twice I have won it and I mean to do still
And we’ll roll it in splendour from the plains of Cootehill:

The Jockeys were mounted and all in a row,
And if you had a’ been there when off they did go,
The bets they were makin’ ten guineas to four
That the cup back to Creeve would return never more.

When Jane she heard this, well, her mettle did rise,
Over hedges and ditches like lightning she flies,
And with a loud ‘neigher’ these words she did say,
You Bellamont sportsmen, I’ll show you the way’.

When Jane and her jockey were half round the course,
Miss Jane and her jockey began to discourse,
Said Miss Jane to her jockey ‘Kind Sir let me know,
Where are my opponents or are they in view?’

He turned in the saddle and he cast an eye round,
‘As for Squire Adams, he lies on the ground,
I’m afraid that poor Curry by Spanker is threw,
And the rest of your opponents they are not yet in view.’

When Jane she heard this, she went in at a race,
And into the scales the balance was laid,
The hall was surrounded for Jackson & Jane,
And the cup went with honors back to Creeve once again.

Cali McKasson plays the gorgeous piano part on this track, and Eddie Parente added a string arrangement.

Of all you’ve heard of Bonnie Jean Cameron
How she was sick and likely to die
And the only thing that they could recommend her
Was aye blithe blink o’ the young pretender

And rare oh rare, Bonnie Jean Cameron
rare oh rare, Bonnie Jean oh

So the doctor was sent for to see if he could cure her
Quickly he came he made no delay
And the only thing that he could recommend her
Was aye blithe blink o’ the young pretender

So to Charlie she wrote a very long letter
Who were his friends and who were his foes
And all the words were sweet and tender
To win the heart o’ the young pretender

It was scarce had she sealed the letter with her hand
When up through the door and in came our king
And she prayed to the saints that angels defend her
And she sank in the arms o’ the young pretender

There were four and twenty nobles sat in the king’s hall
And bonnie Glenlogie was the flower of them all
Down came Jeannie Gordon she came tripping down the stairs
And she’s chosen Glenlogie from all who were there

Glenlogie, Glenlogie, can you prove kind
My love is laid on you and I’ve told you my mind
But he’s turned him round lightly, like the Gordons do all
I thank you, Jeannie Gordon, but I’m promised away

So she’s called to her maidens to make up her bed
With ribbons and napkins to tie up her head
But up spoke her father and a wise man was he
I’ll wed you to Dumfendrum, there’s no better than he.

Oh no, no, my father, bonnie Jeannie did cry
If I can’t have Glenlogie then for him will I die
But her father’s own chaplain, a man of great skill,
He’s wrote a bold letter and indicted it well

“A pox on you Logie, now since it is so
There’s a lady’s love laid on you, must she die in her woe?
And a pox on you, Logie, now since it is time
There’s a lady’s love laid on you, must she die in her prime?”

“Go saddle me the black horse, go saddle me the brown
Bonnie Jeannie o’ Bethelnie will be dead before dawn”
So the horses were saddled, and lead to the green
But bonnie Glenlogie was three miles down the lane

And pale and wan was she when first he he came in
But red and rosy grew she when she knew it was him
Where lies your pain, lady, does it lie in your side?
Where lies your pain, lady, does it lie in your head?

Oh no no, Glenlogie, you’re far from the part
For the pain that I lie under, it lies in my heart
Turn round, Jeannie Gordon, turn round your right side
And I’ll be the bridegroom an you’ll be the bride

In Oranmore in the County Galway
One pleasant morning in the month of May
I spied a cáilín so fair and handsome
Her beauty stole my heart away

She wore no jewel, no costly diamond
No paint, no powder, none at all
She wore a bonnet with green ribbon on it
And around her shoulders, the Galway Shawl

As we were walking she kept talking
Till her father’s cabin came in to view
She said come in and meet my father
And please to play him The Foggy Dew

She sat me down beside the fire
Beside her father who was six feet tall
Very soon she had the kettle boiling
But all I could think of was her Galway Shawl

I played The Blackbird, The Stack of Barley
Rodney’s Glory and The Foggy Dew
She sang each note like and Irish linnet
While tears fell down her eyes so blue

As I set out early next morning
To take the road to Donegal
She sighed and kissed me and then she left me
She stole my heart with her Galway Shawl

Mark plays cittern on this track, Hanz plays low whistle and sings backing vocals.

It was early, early all in the Spring,
When my love Willie went to serve the King,
The night being dark and the wind blew high;
Which parted me from my sailor boy.

“Oh, father, father, bid thee a’go,
For it’s on the ocean I mean to float,
To watch the big ships as they pass by,
That I might inquire for my sailor boy.”

She had not sailed but a day or two,
When she spied a captain and all his crew,
“Oh captain, captain, please tell me true,
Does my love Willie sail on board with you.”

“What was the color did your Willie’s wear
What was the color of your Willie’s hair?”
“A round blue jacket and trousers white,
And his curly hair was my hearts delight.”

“Oh fair maid, fair maid he is not here.
He’s lost or drowned that I am afraid.
On yon green island as we passed by,
‘Twas there we lost that fine sailor boy.”

She wrung her hands and she tore her hair,
Just like a maiden in great despair,
She called for paper both pen and ink,
And on every line she did draw her tears.

And with every watch she goes waking.

“O, father, father dig me a grave,
go dig it long and go dig it deep
place a marble stone at my head and feet,
that the world might know that I died in grief.”