On Thursday 7th of May, Lisa Hannigan performed a magnificent, uplifting concert for you live from The National Gallery of Ireland. Enjoy this beautiful recording of ‘Undertow’ featuring Loah. You can watch the full live stream on the RTE Player now: bit.ly/2WnneVr Performances from Courage are being broadcast worldwide, free of charge, thanks to the support of the Department of Culture, Heritage and the Gaeltacht, Intel and RTÉ. Lisa Hannigan chose to highlight the work of Women’s Aid Ireland. If you can manage it today, please consider donating to: https://womensaid.ie/donate For more information on Lisa Hannigan check out: https://lisahannigan.ie/ About the National Gallery of Ireland: The National Gallery of Ireland is one of the country’s most popular visitor attractions housing the nation’s collection of European and Irish art from about 1300 to the present day, and an extensive Library & Archive. Entry to the collection is free for all to enjoy, learn and be inspired. Note: National Gallery of Ireland Closure The National Gallery of Ireland is currently closed, but there are countless ways for the public to engage with its national collection during this time. Initiatives include ‘National Gallery at Home’ videos, Work of the Day, Mindfulness and Art, and at-home activities inspired by the national collection. Virtual tours of iconic spaces such as the Shaw Room and the Grand Gallery, as well as recent exhibition Murillo: The Prodigal Son Restored, can also be explored from home. Find out more at http://www.nationalgallery.ie/national-gallery-ireland-at-home
The crowded streets of Brooklyn Seem a long way from my home People rushing onwards Going to and coming from You bid them time of day and They look the other way And so you end up just like them And talk to no one
Where the grass is fresh and green Where the air is pure and clean Where the gentle rivers kiss the mountain streams Although I’ve travelled far The hills of south Armagh Are the hills I’m roaming nightly in my dreams
The view from my apartment Is a junkie’s alley way My children speak in accents Not like mine My old man’s working two jobs We don’t see him much these days Oh, we’d be happy If we only had the time
I hear the hills are occupied by strangers now And the work keeps getting scarcer every day Oh, it’s a hard life when you’re forced from home To leave the ones you love Oh, it’s a hard life when you’re forced to live this way
On Thursday 7th of May, Lisa Hannigan performed a magnificent, uplifting concert for you live from The National Gallery of Ireland. Enjoy this beautiful recording of ‘Undertow’ featuring Loah. You can watch the full live stream on the RTE Player now: bit.ly/2WnneVr Performances from Courage are being broadcast worldwide, free of charge, thanks to the support of the Department of Culture, Heritage and the Gaeltacht, Intel and RTÉ. Lisa Hannigan chose to highlight the work of Women’s Aid Ireland. If you can manage it today, please consider donating to: https://womensaid.ie/donate For more information on Lisa Hannigan check out: https://lisahannigan.ie/ About the National Gallery of Ireland: The National Gallery of Ireland is one of the country’s most popular visitor attractions housing the nation’s collection of European and Irish art from about 1300 to the present day, and an extensive Library & Archive. Entry to the collection is free for all to enjoy, learn and be inspired. Note: National Gallery of Ireland Closure The National Gallery of Ireland is currently closed, but there are countless ways for the public to engage with its national collection during this time. Initiatives include ‘National Gallery at Home’ videos, Work of the Day, Mindfulness and Art, and at-home activities inspired by the national collection. Virtual tours of iconic spaces such as the Shaw Room and the Grand Gallery, as well as recent exhibition Murillo: The Prodigal Son Restored, can also be explored from home. Find out more at http://www.nationalgallery.ie/national-gallery-ireland-at-home
2,198,715 views Apr 18, 2012 Something Beautiful is taken from the limited edition DVD package Theology. Recorded in the intimate environs of The Sugar Club.
Lyrics
I wanna make Something beautiful For you and from you To show you To show you I adore you Oh you
And your journey Towards me Which I see And I see All you push through Mad for you And because of you
I couldn’t thank you in ten thousand years If I cried ten thousand rivers of tears Ah, but you know the soul And you know what makes it gold You give life through blood Blood, blood Blood, blood Oh, blood, blood
Oh I wanna make something so lovely for you ‘Cause I promised that’s what I’d do for you With the Bible, I stole I know you forgave my soul because Such was my need on a chronic Christmas Eve And I think we’re agreed That it should have been free And you sang to me
They dress the wounds of my poor people As though they’re nothing Saying, “Peace, peace” When there’s no peace They dress the wounds of my poor people As though they’re nothing Saying, “Peace, peace, peace” When there’s no peace
Days without number Now can a bride forget her jewels? Or a maid her ornaments? Yet, my people forgotten me
Days without number Days without number And in their want Who’ll dress their wounds? Who’ll dress their wounds?
Last night as I lay dreamin’ Of pleasant days gone by Me mind bein’ bent on rambling To Ireland I did fly I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the wind Till first I came to anchor at The cross at Spancil Hill
It being the 23rd of June The day before the fair Where Ireland’s sons and daughters And friends assembled there The young, the old The brave and the bold came Their duty to fulfill At the parish church near Clooney A mile from Spancil Hill
I went to see my neighbours to See what they might say The old ones were all dead and gone The young ones turning grey I met the tailor Quigley He’s as bold as ever still He used to mend my britches when I lived in Spancil Hill
I took a flying visit to my one and only love She’s as white as any lily As gentle as a dove She threw her arms around Me, saying “Johnny, i love you still” She is Nell, the farmer’s daughter The pride of Spancil Hill
I dreamt I held and kissed her As in the days of old Saying, “Johnny, you’re only joking As many’s the time before” But the cock, he crew in the morning He crew both loud and shrill I awoke in California Many miles from Spancil Hill
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I saw her first and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue; I saw the danger, yet I passed along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge, The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay Oh I loved too much and by such by such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that’s known To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint without stint for I gave her poems to say. With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I had loved not as I should a creature made of clay When the angel woos the clay he’d lose his wings at the dawn of day.
When the rain is blowing in your face And the whole world is on your case I could offer you a warm embrace To make you feel my love When the evening shadows and the stars appear And there is no one there to dry your tears I could hold you for a million years To make you feel my love
I know you haven’t made your mind up yet But I would never do you wrong I’ve known it from the moment that we met No doubt in my mind where you belong
I’d go hungry, I’d go black and blue I’d go crawling down the avenue No, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do To make you feel my love
The storms are raging on the rolling sea And on the highway of regret Though winds of change are throwing wild and free You ain’t seen nothing like me yet
I could make you happy, make your dreams come true Nothing that I wouldn’t do Go to the ends of the Earth for you To make you feel my love To make you feel my love
Last night as I lay dreamin’ Of pleasant days gone by Me mind bein’ bent on rambling To Ireland I did fly I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the wind Till first I came to anchor at The cross at Spancil Hill
It being the 23rd of June The day before the fair Where Ireland’s sons and daughters And friends assembled there The young, the old The brave and the bold came Their duty to fulfill At the parish church near Clooney A mile from Spancil Hill
I went to see my neighbours to See what they might say The old ones were all dead and gone The young ones turning grey I met the tailor Quigley He’s as bold as ever still He used to mend my britches when I lived in Spancil Hill
I took a flying visit to my one and only love She’s as white as any lily As gentle as a dove She threw her arms around Me, saying “Johnny, i love you still” She is Nell, the farmer’s daughter The pride of Spancil Hill
I dreamt I held and kissed her As in the days of old Saying, “Johnny, you’re only joking As many’s the time before” But the cock, he crew in the morning He crew both loud and shrill I awoke in California Many miles from Spancil Hill
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I saw her first and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue; I saw the danger, yet I passed along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge, The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay Oh I loved too much and by such by such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that’s known To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint without stint for I gave her poems to say. With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I had loved not as I should a creature made of clay When the angel woos the clay he’d lose his wings at the dawn of day.