Sleeve Notes:
THE BIRTH OF A SONG
I heard last night, a timeless, wondrous song
A song, sweeter in melody and tone than honey
Honey gathered by the busy, buzzing bees in the flowery
profusions of the bird-warbling glen
The glen wherein you'll find, on every twig and branch, the
blackbird, the thrush and the linnet
The linnet who first sang, in the crystal-clear dewy morning,
the tune
The tune which was stolen by the silent, swift,
Woman-of-the-Wind
The wind which rippled, with gentle fingertips, the waters on
the lonely lake.
The lake wherein dwells the bright golden Salmon of knowledge.
The knowledge that filled his being, with his eating of the
precious nuts
The nuts that fell from the All knowing Hazel Tree into the
silver-sounding river
The river that flows, stone polishing and many-pooled, from
the misty purple mountain
The mountain whereon, dwells in simple solitude, the
moon-forgotten lover
The lover who wrung from his soul, the sorrow-knowing words
The words that were inhaled and held captive by the Fairy man
The Fairy man who rode the enchanted white horse
The horse that touched neither land nor water until he came to
the Great Gathering
The Great Gathering of mysterious magician and made
merrymakers, of melodious musicians and master poets.
The poets who wooed with sweet, soul-melting words, the
Woman-of-the-Wind.
The Woman-of-the-Wind, who gave to them with kind and open
heart, the much-sought and longed-for tune.
The tune which they sampled and tasted and caressed with great
tenderness, before they wedded it to the words
The words from the soul of the time-lost, mountainy lover,
which were captured by the Fairy man.
The Fairy man, who, surrounded by seven multi-robed magicians,
carried the finished song on his enchanted steed to the
musicians
The musicians, everyone a master of his art, who performed it
with the utmost shades of feeling for the spellbound King
The King who reigns supreme over the Land of All Beauty.
The beauty that is the daughter of perfection
The perfection that is the star-footed dancer
The dancer who glided smoothly and gracefully down the
sky-spanning rainbow
The rainbow which infused the song with light and wisdom
The wisdom, born of the ages, which poured it silently into
the mind
The mind of the wandering, many-miled, song-laden minstrel
The minstrel who sang the new-ancient, sweet-sad,
merry-soulful song.
The song I heard last night.
Tommy Makem
