48. A Jug of Punch

Traditional, arranged and adapted with new words and music ©Robbie O’Connell 2008 Slievenamon Music (BMI)

In early June 2008, I rented a cottage, for a week, in the Comeragh Mountains in County Waterford in Ireland. I was still living in Bristol, RI at that time but I had just finished leading one of our Celtica Tours where we brought a small group of visitors on a regional cultural tour of Ireland. I felt the need to spend a little time reconnecting with the countryside where I had grown up. It’s strange how we spend the first half of our lives trying to escape our childhood and the second half trying to recapture it.

Living abroad for forty years, but frequently visiting Ireland, always left me with a yearning for the Irish countryside. Each time I returned to the USA, it wasn’t so much particular people or particular places that I found hard to leave but the landscape itself. Those rugged Irish vistas have a way of burrowing into your soul and leaving you despondent when you depart. The Comeragh Mountains, the Nire Valley, the Suir River Valley, and the Copper Coast, were all places that left me with a kind of longing for that childlike sensation of connection that can only come from the land itself.

My rental cottage wasn’t far from Ring, County Waterford, where my uncle Liam Clancy lived. We had spent a lot of time together in the nineties, doing concerts and recording, but we hadn’t seen very much of each other in the previous few years. This felt like a great opportunity to catch up. It had always been a family tradition, in the summertime, to go for a picnic in the Nire Valley, a remote beauty spot, in the foothills of the majestic Comeraghs. The forecast, for once, was promising some beautiful weather so I suggested to Liam that we go an a bit of a jaunt to the Nire, for old time’s sake. He hadn’t been there for years either, so he was delighted with the plan. It was a picture postcard day, a clear blue sky, a few puffy white clouds, a perfect temperature and the cheerful sound of bird song everywhere. We spent a most pleasant afternoon enjoying the stunning scenery, breathing in the sweet cool air and soaking up the glorious mixture of sunshine and nostalgia.

When we got back to the cottage, we had both reached a level of relaxation not experienced since childhood. He kindly invited me to his house for dinner. I’d had many wonderful meals there over the years and I was sorely tempted but I had to reluctantly refuse. All through the day, a melody had been forming in my head and I knew that if I didn’t capture it there and then, it would disappear forever. I explained my dilemma to Liam and hoped he understood. When he had headed home, I picked up my guitar and the melody appeared almost fully formed on the first try, a fairly rare occurrence, in my experience.

When I write songs they usually stem from one particular phrase, either musical or lyrical. If I’m particularly lucky, both arrive simultaneously. This time, although the melody was instantaneous, there was no sign of any lyric showing up. For some reason, the line, “One pleasant evening in the month of June,” kept popping into my head. That was from the old song, The Jug of Punch which was the best known song of another of my other uncles, Paddy Clancy. Given the lovely pleasant evening we had just experienced and the time of year, I suppose it wasn’t all that surprising.

No matter how I tried to find for new lyrics to go with the melody, my mind kept returning to that. So, eventually, I decided to embrace it instead of resisting it. I am always fascinated by the different versions of folk songs and the way both the lyrics and the melody morph to suit the predilections of different regions or ethnic groups. I looked up different versions of the song and ended up reworking the lyrics from some of those as well as adding new lines and a new final verse, with a more upbeat ending.

I still love to sing this song. It always brings back fond memories of that lovely day which, sadly, turned out to be the last meaningful time I got to spend with Liam. I feel blessed to have had a chance to share that experience with him. A little over a year later, he was gone.

Lyrics:

A JUG OF PUNCH

Traditional, arranged and adapted with new words and music ©Robbie O’Connell 2008 Slievenamon Music (BMI)¹

One pleasant evening in the month of June 
As I sat down with my glass and spoon
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch 
And the song he sang was a jug of punch

Refrain:
Radley fol the dee me boys 
Radley fol the day

What more diversion can a man desire 
Than to sit him down by an alehouse fire?
Upon his knee oh a comely wench 
And on the table a jug of punch

Now some drink ale and some drink wine, 
Those lords and ladies like their claret fine
But I'd trade all the grapes in the bunch 
For just one sip from a jug of punch

Those learned doctors with all their art 
Can't cure the pain that lies on the heart
But a woeful thirst you can quickly quench 
When you're snug outside of a jug of punch

And when I'm dead and lie in my grave
No marble tombstone will I crave
Just lower me down with a rope and winch 
And on my heart lay a jug of punch

But I'm not ready for that churchyard cold
Stir up the fire and then bar the door
And all dull cares we will surely drench 
With our glasses full from a jug of punch

1. PRODUCTION INFORMATION:
Robbie O’Connell: Vocal, guitar
Aoife Clancy: Harmony Vocal
Dónal Clancy: Bouzouki
Eric Wendelkin: Bass
Derek Pisano: Keyboards
Produced by Robbie O’Connell
Recorded at Mockingbird Studio, Mansfield, MA
Derek Pisano, Recording Engineer
Digitally mastered at Northeastern Digital, Southboro, MA by Toby Mountain