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One Faithful Harp Shall Praise Thee
| Article
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14528 |
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Section : |
CULTURE
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| Issue
Date : |
3 / 1988 |
3,711 Words |
| Author
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Kathleen Cahill Tsubata
Kathleen Cahill Tsubata, a third-generation Irish-American, is
a free-lance journalist in the Washington, D.C, area. |
Singing is a particularly human activity, one that for thousands of years has recorded the feelings, events, and dreams of humankind. Every culture has its unique body of folk music, songs that may come into existence for a variety of reasons: to immortalize a hero, mourn a beloved one, win a heart, teach a child.
Ethnic consciousness is passed on through the medium of such songs, through the actions and attitudes expressed. Perhaps no other tool is so effective in transmitting values. It is not surprising, then, that the Irish, who traditionally honored bards and poets, developed a musical tradition that migrated along with the people, and which bore fruit in America. It certainly did in my family.
Long drives provided frequent occasions for family music. Sitting in the back seat of the darkened car, we children would listen to my parents sing. The younger ones soon fell asleep, leaving just me and my sister alert.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling, from glen to glen and down the mountainside...
The summer's gone, and all the leaves are falling, 'tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide...
This was a magic time for us. My father's rich baritone blended with my mother's soprano, imbuing each song with an emotion that transported them, and us, far from the modern world to a different time and place.
But come ye back, when summer's in the meadow, and when the valley's hushed and white with
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