52. Sliabh na mBan

Written by Mícheál Óg Ó Longáin (1766-1837). Arranged & adapted by Robbie O’Connell ©1982, Slievenamon Music (BMI)

I grew up in the Suir valley in County Tipperary, where the landscape was dominated by the majestic presence of Slievenamon, (Sliabh na mBan), a 2,365 ft mountain, topped by an ancient burial cairn. Steeped in legend, the name is said to have come from a tale about Finn Mac Cumhaill (Finn McCool), choosing a wife by having eligible women race to the summit where he promised to marry the winner. Already in love with Gráinne, he secretly showed her a short cut, ensuring she won the race, thus setting a strategic precedent for every Irish politician since—never try to accomplish by fair means what you can achieve by subterfuge.

There are two popular songs about Slievenamon, one in English by Charles Kickham, who was said to be a distant relative, and another in Irish about a local battle. The former is a nostalgic love song, while the latter is a lament for those massacred in the battle of Carrickmoclear during the 1798 rebellion. It is thought to have been written by the Gaelic poet, Mícheál Óg Ó Longáin, who happened to be in the area at that time.

In addition to the Irish language lyrics, I include here an English translation by Seamus Ennis. I remember him working on it when he was a guest at my parents’ house in the late 1960s where he was a frequent visitor. A few years later, while I was a student at University College Dublin, I went to a concert at Slattery’s on Capel St. to see Seamus perform. I wasn’t sure if he’d remember me since I hadn’t seen him for a couple of years. But at one point in the evening, he sang his translation of “Sliabh na mBan” and smiled directly at me saying, “This translation is the work of a great man.” I knew then that he had recognized me.

SLIABH NA MBAN

Translation of the song by Seamus Ennis…

I hear no verses from thrush or blackbird
and grass grows dimly on the forest path,
the gorgeous maiden with grief is laden
with eternal wailing beating hands bereft.
She cries all pining that the young men
in Ireland nightly no rest can plan.
The troop of rangers, all-plundering strangers
on the sunny side slopes of Sliab na mBan.

I grieve my saying that that day's slaying
should have gone on, Gaels in their hundreds dead,
because the stranger is making game of us
saying pikes for them hold fear nor dread.
Our major came not in time of day break
we weren't prepared with our pikes as one,
but as wild sheep nearing a shepherd shearing
on the sunny side slopes of Sliab na mBan.

The Frenchman's rallying with sharp masts steadying
his top sails, bending at sea a while.
His frequent sea cracks mean out isle he's seeking
and for Gaels who see once more in power and style.
Could I believe that he's not deceiving
my heart wouldn't be weaving like the lark at dawn
to down the stranger and hear the hunt's horn blazing
on the sunny side slopes of Sliab na mBan.

New Ross 'tis known wasn't what beat us woefully
and left the horde of us stretched and weak,
we babes unclothed as cinders smouldering
and those who fought bore it lying by ditch and dike.
I have it sworn now that he who lowered us
we'll be before him with pikes each man
and teach the yeoman to fear the foeman
when we pay the score to them at Sliabh na mBan.

SLIABH NA MBAN

Written by Mícheál Óg Ó Longáin (1766-1837). Arranged & adapted by Robbie O’Connell ©1982, Slievenamon Music (BMI)¹²

Is oth liom féinig bualadh an lae úd
Do dhul ar Ghaeil bhocht is na céadta 'slad
Mar tá na meirligh ag déanamh géim dínn
Is a rá nach aon ní leo píc ná sleá.
Níor tháinigh ár Major i dtús an lae chugainn
Is ní rabhamar féinig i gcóir ná i gceart
Ach mar a sheolfaí tréada de bha gan aoire
Ar thaobh na gréine de Shliabh na mBan.

<Instrumental break>
 
Is é Ros do bhreoigh is do chloígh go deo sinn,
Mar ar fágadh mórchuid dínn sínte lag.
Leanaí óga 'na smóla dóite
Is an méid a fhan beo dhíobh cois claí nó scairt.
Ach geallaim féin dhaoibh, an té dhein an foghla,
Go mbeamna i gcóir dó le píc is le sleá;
Is go gcuirfeam yeomen ag crith `na mbróga,
Ag díol a gcomhair leo ar Shliabh na mBan.

1. PRODUCTION INFORMATION
Robbie O’Connell: Vocals and Guitar
Tommy Keane: Tin Whistle, low whistle
Produced by Tom Phillips
Recorded at Ivy Lane Studios, Hopkinson, MA in 1981
Engineered by Larry Minnis
Mixed at Ivy Lane Studios by Tom Phillips and Robbie O’Connell

2. Only two of the seven verses are sung here. The full lyrics in Irish can be found at https://www.cranfordpub.com/langan/Sliabh_na_mBan.htm