(see A Hidden Ulster pp.176-8 for detailed references and information)
This is a popular love song associated with the Ulster tradition, and a Donegal version has been recorded by a number of traditional singers. It belongs to the category of the young man’s love song The Donegal version has been recorded by singers, Eithne Ní Uallacháin, Clannad,and Maighread Ní Dhomhnaill. It was collected under the various titles of Rise Up, My Darling, Gleannta na Coillidh Uaignigh, Is Lag Brónach a Bhím and Éirigh Suas , a Stóirín
It was collected in Mullaghban and in Omeath. The air was written down in tonic solfa is in Lorcán Ó Muirí’s hand notation. Aonach Cinn Trá in the ﬁrst line is possibly derived from Iúr Cinn Trá, the Irish for Newry, and could be a reference to going to Newry market or fair (aonach). There has been a market in Newry continuously since 1777.
The opening phrase in English in the second verse is also found in some Donegal versions and reflects the language shift in song as Irish was receding as the vernacular in the community. It might also have been regarded as a badge of learning by some singers and song writers.
The lyrics are from various sources including Séamus Quinn (AHU p. 397 not Mícheál) from Carricknagavna, Mullaghban, County Armagh, collected by Mullaghban man Tomás Ó Cuilleannáin – Tommy Hollywood (AHU pp,365-6) and the air was noted from the hand written manuscript by collector Lorcán Ó Muirí (AHU pp.358-60).
The air and words were reconnected and first recorded by Pádraigín Ní Uallacháin on Gael Linn CD An Dealg Óir 2003, accompanied by guitarist and producer Steve Cooney. It is also recorded on Ceoltaí Oirialla – Songs of Oriel CD 2017.
It was recorded and filmed above in Mullaghban in 2016 with accompaniment by wire strung harpist Sylvia Crawford from County Armagh.
Rachaidh mé amárach go haonach Chinn Trá,
An áit a bhfaighidh mé cuideacht’ agus plé mór ar mhná,
Ní bheidh a’n duine liom ansin ach mé féin is mo ghrá,
Is a Bheití an chúil ómra, is tú ’tá mé rá.
Rise up, my darling, má tá tú ’do luí,
Foscail an doras is lig mé astoigh,
Tá buidéal i m’aice is drám fá bhean a’ tí,
’Gus tá dúil agam nach ndiúlto(cha)idh sí mé fána níon.
Ná fágaidh despond orm chionn ’s mé bheith gan mhaoin,
Bhéarfainn cupáin agus breacán duit is do sháith olann is lín,
Bhéarfainn sin agus tuilleadh duit is seascaireacht tí,
’Gus gruaim ar do mhalaidh, a ghrá, ní chuirﬁnn a choíche.
Chuirﬁnn bean a chodladh le ciúineas is ceol,
Agus bheinnse dá mealladh in ainneoin dá bhfuil beo,
Chuirﬁnn mo lámh ar a brollach agus bhéarfainn di póg,
Is cér mhiste don chailín sin, mise bheith ’g ól.
Nuair a éirímse amach ar maidin is amharcaim uaim,
Amharcaim insan taobh udaí a mbíonn mo ghrá ann,
Titeann na deora insna srathaí liom síos,
Agus nímse míle osna ’bhíos cosúil le cumhaidh.
I ngleanntáin na coilleadh uaigní is lag brónach mar bhím,
Gach tráthnóna Dé Domhnaigh is ar maidin Dé Luain,
Is go mb’fhearr liom ar maidin is mé ag éirí amach ’mo shuí,
Dá bhfaighinnse mil ar chuiseoga ag bonn chnoc na sí.
I will go out tomorrow to Newry fair,
Where I will get company and much talk of girls,
There’ll be no one along with me but my darling and me,
It’s you whom I speak of my brown haired Betty.
Rise up, my darling, if you’re lying down,
Open the door and let me come in,
I have a bottle beside me, a dram for your mother,
I hope she’ll not refuse me the hand of her daughter.
Don’t leave me despondent for having no wealth,
I’d give you cups and griddle bread, enough linen and wool,
I’d give you that and more and a sheltered house,
And bring a frown to your brow, love, I never would do.
I’d lull a woman to sleep with silence and song,
And I’d be enticing her in spite of them all,
I’d lay my hand on her breast and give her a kiss,
And me to be drinking, sure what odds to yon lass.
When I rise in the morning and look out beyond,
I look to the land where my true love lives on,
The tears from my eyes ﬂow down in full stream;
I sigh a thousand times over, as if in melancholy.
In the lonely wooded glens I languish in pain;
Each Sunday evening and Monday at dawn,
I’d rather in the morning as I rise and go out,
To ﬁnd honey on grasses at the fairy hill’s foot.
Translation: P.Ní Uallacháin
© Oriel Arts 2017