Christy Moore, Glen Hansard : The Auld Triangle (Hail St Patrick 4)

Jingle Jangle.

Hungry Feelings.

Jingle Jangle.

The longing for Home.

Jingle Jangle.

The longing for love.

Jingle Jangle.

Brendan Behan.

Dominic Behan.

Dublin Men


A Song for Ireland.

And the auld triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

Amazing that Glen hasn’t featured on The Jukebox before.

As you can see he’s a charismatic performer who has no problem working a crowd and getting every last drop of feeling from a well worn song.

Check out his covers of songs by Bob Dylan and Van Morrison which are notable for the ‘let’s give it the full lash lads!’ approach he brings to hallowed classics.

Christy Moore is more than an icon of Irish Folk Music he’s a national treasure.

Over the decades Christy has developed tremendous song craft bringing acute emotional intelligence and dramatic intensity to lyric and melody.

His version of The Auld Triangle has the echo of the prison corridors and is haunted with hungry feeling.

And the auld triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

All along the banks of the Royal Canal

When it comes to haunting voices I know of no combination of writer and actor to equal Samuel Beckett and Jack MacGowran.

Beckett’s prose has such wonderful rhythmic pace and poise which MacGowran performs with luminous feeling.

Jingle Jangle.

Hungry Feelings.

Jingle Jangle.

Jingle Jangle.

Blog Break :

Thankfully I’m well and safely hunkered down in rural seclusion. This gives me the opportunity for deep listening and reading without, immediately, thinking about turning those experiences into a Jukebox Post.

So, for a while, there will be no new Posts here.

But! There are 388 Posts here for you to explore.

Everything from Amazing Rhythm Aces to Frank Zappa.

Please take a ramble round The Jukebox Archive.

Stay Well.

Christy Moore : The Cliffs of Dooneen, Jack B Yeats – Mystic Horse


The Home Place.

Never more real and vivid than when recollected in the imagination.

We are our memories.

And, our memories, particularly those which carry the most emotional charge, are constantly being selected, edited and recast.

The stream of memory is never stilled.

The genesis of a song, a poem, a story or a painting begins in an insistent whisper from the memory.

A whisper which cannot be ignored.

Such a whisper was heard in the 1930s by Jack McAuliffe from Lixnaw in County Kerry as he sat sat in a cottage near Dooneen Point.

In response he wrote a poem that became the ballad, ‘The Cliffs of Dooneen’.


The key duty of an creative artist is to closely attend to those whispers and make them real in words on the page, notes in the air or brush marks on the canvas.

And, the truth of the song or the poem or the painting is the truth of the imagination and cannot be reduced to the mundane metric of exact measurement.

You may not be able to see Kilrush and Kilkee form the Cliffs of Dooneen with the naked eye but I defy anyone alive not to see them, clear as the light of dawn, in the mind’s eye when conjured up with lyrical tenderness by Christy Moore and Planxty (featuring the heart piercing piping of Liam O’Flynn)

So too the trembling hare and the lofty pheasants making homes for their young.

And, whoever you are, wherever you are, however far you have traveled from your own native home far away from the mountains and away over the foam you will have within you memories of all the kind people you have left behind.

In the quiet watches of your dreams you will bathe in the streams and the meadows of your youth.

And, when you hear, ‘The Cliffs of Dooneen’ you will find yourself singing along with a full heart and tears in your eyes.

‘You may travel far far from your own native home

Far away o’er the mountains far away o’er the foam

But of all the fine places that I’ve ever seen,

There’s none to compare with The Cliffs of Dooneen

Take a view o’er the water fine sights you’ll see there

You’ll see the high rocky slopes on the West coast of Clare

The towns of Kilrush and Kilkee can be seen

From the high rocky slopes at The Cliffs of Dooneen

Its a nice place to be on a fine Summer’s day

Watching all the wild flowers that ne’er do decay

The hare and lofty pheasant are plain to be seen

Making homes for their young round The Cliffs of Dooneen

Fare thee well to Dooneen fare thee well for a while

And to all the fine people I’m leaving behind

To the streams and the meadows where late I have been

And the high rocky slopes of The Cliffs of Dooneen’


The featured Painter today is Jack B Yeats (1871 to 1957)

We return to the theme of The Horse in Irish culture.

I have seen many thousands of horses in my life yet I have never seen a horse so thrillingly, mystically, alive as the horse in Jack B Yeats painting above.