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KOYT TREDHEWI
(Cornish language)
Golow dres an nos
mernans rag
mynysenn verr
tanyow war’n
brenn an taran
an tabour
Geryow
a hanas
kepar ha
mog adro
tan myttin
towlow parys
ynta rag an
vyaj dhe dhos
Bedhow a with
an eskern
a syns an bywnans
a dhifres an golow
meyn kepar ha
lagasow an marow
a vir dres an nos
Gans faglennow yn dorn
proseshyon tanek ha rudh
hynsyow dres koeswith
ha qwern troesya a wrussyn
Res erbynn termyn kepar ha bywnans
gyllys mar skon ynkleudh an marow
kyns kynsa golowyns an howl
Meyn hir ha gorherys
a with an bedh a sel an golow
enter yn nor an morow
wolkomm an nos
TRETHEVY QUOIT
(English translation)
A call in the night
a moment’s mortality
fires on the hill
and the thunder of drums
Whispering words
swirl like smoke
around morning fires
plans well prepared
for the journey
to come.
Graves guard
the bones
hold the life
shied
the light
stones,
like the
eyes of
the dead
watch through
the night
With torches in hand
a fiery processional
pathways through forest
and marshes we trudged
A race against time like life,
all so quickly gone
bury the dead before first rays of light
Stones tall and capped
guard the grave seal the light
enter the world of the dead
welcome the night.
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HOUSESTEADS - HADRIAN'S WALL - NORTHUMBRIA
Shadows creep like wanton children stalk the lantern on the wall
here alone I wait at midnight hear the footsteps, hear the calls
as the conquered roam amongst the shadows
through the trees and countryside while the legions huddle
locked in mileposts, trying best to hide.
Four years since I joined the legion marched a thousand miles or more
scaled the mountains, sailed the oceans
watched the lions on distant shores
from the farmyards of a Frisian forest
now with Thracians, Pans and Gauls
here we stand forever, backs together
lost on Hadrian’s Wall.
Shrouded in mists of midnight, Pictish nations heed the call
conquerers locked in mileposts - Pans and Goths and Gauls
wrapped in our cloaks of conquest here at
Housesteads on the Wall
pipes of the Caledonias
prophesy our fall - evermore.
Campfires flicker ‘neath the ridgeline like a universe of stars
sharpened steel and bow string nerves
rehearse the carnage, death and scars
I’m a Frisian boy on German duty
for Roman rule on British soil
I’m a simple pawn in a mass deception
in someone else’s war.
Shrouded in mists of midnight, Pictish nations heed the call
conquerers locked in mileposts - Pans and Goths and Gauls
wrapped in our cloaks of conquest here at
Housesteads on the Wall
pipes of the Caledonias
prophesy our fall - evermore.
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3. |
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Mont Sen Mighal - (St Michael's Mount) - Cornwall
(Cornish language)
Blydhen peswar naw pymp
seyth marner gesys yn bew
moryow serrys hag ebrenn dhuhes
ha’n arvor re bell aves
rag aga sawya
Bysyes yeyn a skravin an ayr
goelyow regyes ewyn du desper
war legh ni a’n givel ena
gans ankov du yn golok
ev a’gan gelow tre
(English translation)
A. D. four ninety five
seven sailors left alive
raging seas and blackened skies
and the coast too far away
to save them.
Cold fingers claw the air
torn sails, black foam, despair
on a ledge we see him there
with oblivion in sight
he calls us home.
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4. |
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5. |
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Ellan Vannin - Isle of Man
So they came from the North seeking conquests and gold
with the mists in their eyes
and we stood on the shore of this magical Isle
hundred times our real size
saw the missionaries come from the West gave us God
took the snakes and the toads
Irish Bishoprics took full control ‘til the Norsemen
from King Orry’s Road plundered all.
So they came from the East with their tartans and kilts
- Alexander’s pipe band
and soon Magnus had gone and the haggis installed
while the English made plans
Aristocracy came from the South and like cards
we were dealt to new hands
English Earls, Lords and Dukes took control we were bartered, dismembered and banned
.... we were sold.
(Manx Gaelic language)
Fodee'd gaggyrt traie as cashtal
fodee'd geeck da ronney vrann
cha bee nyn greeyn lhieusyn dy bragh
ny'n moyrn ain t'ainyn foastagh.
(English translation)
They may claim our coasts and castles
they may buy their shares of dreams
but they will never own our hearts
or the pride that dwells within.
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6. |
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Stonehenge - Salisbury Plain - Henge
Head bowed, the calm before the storm
hollowed eyed and bent await the dawn
in my mind I hear the spirits call
“all will see”.
(Welcome to the journey)
Come rest my head
come soothe my soul
my aching bones
rest on this cold, wet soil.
The bluestone lies
ensnared by rope
we slaves entwined
chained to a life long yoke.
Head bowed, the rope bites into flesh
heavy steps, we grind towards our quest
hear the voice, the dark approaching death
“all will see”.
(Welcome to the journey)
Prescelly Hills
the journey’s start
the blackness comes
choking my throat and heart.
Through season’s change
through mountain glen
through endless pain
and I ask .. for what end?
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7. |
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8. |
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LLanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
Well he went to school,
but he never learnt much
reading, writing, geography
but his maths was great
and he hoped to make university
so the day arrived - the examination
all hinged on the aural score
he was just ahead, final question said
how do you spell - oh no!
LLanfair.......
Well he failed the test, he was devastated
no future that he could see
so his father said “I’ve a friend of mine
who could help maybe”
so he got a job
with the North Wales Railway
seventh station along the line
and as his train arrived on his first big day
he could read the sign - oh no!
LLanfair.......
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9. |
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Dun Trodden - Glenelg Scotland - Broch
Somewhere in the darkness
I could hear a
young voice sigh
somewhere in
the Sound of Sleat
the demons lie
with their sleek
ships of death
with their oars,
capes and crests
and with sword
in hand raised
to the sky.
Somewhere
on a hillside
we had seen the
broad white sails
words and legs
had scrambled down
to tell our tale
that the Romans
had come
and we children
had run
from the
mountain side
down to Gleann Beag.
Sometimes words have no meaning
sometimes truth sounds like lies
sometimes life
is believing
we are not
meant to die.
Gathering the young and aged
we climbed the stony stairs
hiding in the darkness
of our own despair
while the men,
swords in hand
from their guard
cells made plans
for the Roman hoards
soon to appear.
Sometimes ....
Somewhere on
a mountain top
we heard the battle cry
heard the crimson
tunic call
to slavery
as we
crouched
in the gloom
of our
Dun Trodden tomb
a young voice was heard
- “man must be free”.
Sometimes .....
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10. |
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Silbury Hill - Wiltshire - Earth Works
Dawn of Lugnasadh, season of plenty
the children rejoice
warm breath of summer,
season of lovers and light
waist deep in grain,
feel the rhythm of flailing
the slash, the fall, the knife
four seasons spinning
unravelling the reasons of life.
High on a hilltop circles of white chalk
reach up to the sky
barrows of earth creep like fingers
on ropes up the side
higher and higher the white chalk is dyed
with the kiss of Mother Earth
carries our visions
our hopes and intentions, our worth.
Silbury Hill
what a world we can achieve
what a way to meet your needs
what a view of life I see
these are dreams I can believe.
On a hilltop, high emotion where
the ley lines run in perfect motion
on a hilltop high above all the doubts below
feel the wind blow warm and free
on my cheek and hair, staring ever onwards
to the visions far away as the eye can see.
Silbury Hill
what a world we can achieve
what a way to meet your needs
what a view of life I see
these are dreams I can believe.
On a hilltop man has made with his honest toil and sheer devotion
see the patterns come and go
of the world below
like a top that’s spinning faster
as the years slip by and forever after little left to leave this world
to mark my time.
Silbury Hill
what a world we could achieve
take our share and meet our needs
play our part and live our creed
these are dreams I can believe.
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A musical voyage through the Celtic areas of Great Britain exploring the ancient monuments of Cornwall, Wales, Scotland, England and The Isle of Man.
This CD is dedicated to the women of my daughter’s families. It takes its inspiration from the Celtic areas of Great Britain and explores the ancient monuments of Cornwall, Wales, Scotland, England and The Isle of Man. It is one Australian’s attempt to understand the mystery and history of the places that shaped those women and so, in turn, my daughter.
released September 1, 1998
Gavin O'Loghlen : Acoustic 6 & 12 string guitars, electric guitars, drums, bass, bodhran, percussion, keyboards, vocoders, programming, Prophet 5, kalimba, highland pipes, low and tin whistles, vocals
Angelee Theodoros : Cello, vocals
Stephanie Graeber : Violin
Suzannah Graeber : Violin
Anne Dormer : Fretless bass, vocals
Harry Theodoros : Accordion
Liesl Warner : Harp
Daniel Seymour : Military snare
Jack Brennan : Uilleann pipes
Lillian James : Cornish translations
David Hathaway : Manx translations
Elen Shute : Welsh pronunciations
Art work and illustrations by Anne Dormer
We would like to sincerely thank : Lillian James and Graham Sandercock for the Cornish translations, David Hathaway and Phil Kelly for the Manx translations, Elen Shute for the Welsh pronunciations; Harry Theodoros, Ian Woods, Diana Hunter for equipment ; Liesl Warner, Jack Brennan, Daniel Seymour for their performances; and my family for their support, patience and endurance.
