20. The Ferrybank Piper

© Robbie O’Connell 1973 Slievenamon Music

It’s hard for me to believe that it’s been sixty years since I wrote this song. One stormy winter night, in the mid 1960s, as we gathered around a cozy fire in our living room, my father began reminiscing about his childhood growing up on the Scotch Quay in Waterford city. His home was just a few yards from the estuary of river Suir which was broad, deep, and tidal, at that point. On a still summer’s evening, with a full tide, the water looked like sheet glass and even the slightest sounds carried clearly across from the village of Ferrybank on the opposite shore.

On such rare evenings, a bagpiper, in Ferrybank, would march along the railway tracks that hugged the riverbank while he enthusiastically gave free reign to the repertoire of pipe tunes that his wife probably refused to let him play in his house. The combination of the still evening air and the full tide acted like a giant amplifier sending his melodies winging throughout the city and only tapering off when they reached the softness of surrounding meadows and marshlands.

The striking contrast between the idyllic summer scene in my father’s story and the tattoo of the wind-lashed rain on the window panes etched those images in my mind as if they had been experiences of my own. Shortly afterwards I wrote the song. It was only the second song I had ever completed.

In those days, the music came easily enough to me but I felt like I didn’t have enough life experience or interesting opinions to write worthwhile lyrics. I was frequently frustrated by having a melody I liked but not having a suitable topic that I could use to complete the task. So, my father’s story was a welcome gift that I soon transformed into a song.

At that time in Ireland, the word “gay” still retained its traditional meaning of carefree or happy. Unfortunately, in the following years, the newer meaning rapidly superseded the older one and somewhat undermined the song. It may have been the use of that word that once caused someone to mishear the title and ask me, in all seriousness, to sing The Fairy Bagpiper, a misnomer that really cracked me up. Incidentally, I once got a request for Brendan on the Moon instead of Brennan on the Moor. I keep meaning to write that epic space outlaw ballad and immortalize the Irish Space Program.

Nevertheless, the Ferrybank Piper was well received at the time and that gave me the confidence to continue song writing. Regardless of age or experience, the fear of ridicule is the greatest obstacle to anyone starting on a creative endeavor. So even a little encouragement can be empowering and clear the way for creativity to flow. Conversely, I’m sure the lack of self assurance has prevented many an interesting idea from reaching its full potential.

Even after all these years, singing a new song for the first time still makes me nervous, although I’ve had plenty of life experience and am in no way short of opinions, as my friends know only too well.

Lyrics:

THE FERRYBANK PIPER

© Robbie O’Connell 1973 Slievenamon Music

By the river in the evening the piper used to play,
And down along the railway tracks he’d play songs sad and gay.
His pipes were always well in tune and the people used to say
His songs would echo on evening tide and carry miles away.

CHORUS
So here’s to the ferrybank piper, may his sad tunes never die.
May his gay tunes raise your weary hearts, till in your grave you lie.

Sometimes he’d pipe a haunting tune, sometimes he’d hum a song,
But always a crowd would gather and follow him along.
And the sound of their voices in the evening sky would rise and linger long.
But no more they echo on the evening tide, now that he is gone.

And now when I walk down that way and hear the river flow,
I think of that old piper and the songs he used to know.
A happy tune runs thru my head and I sing it soft and low,
And I think I hear the echo of the evening tide, like the days of long ago.