The American Wake (The Banshee) | Americana with a Body Count — Sasperela Rue

A lament of love, loss, and a farewell that lasts a lifetime, set against the Great Hunger that drove so many Irish to American shores, never to return. The third song in a new album, Ghostly Heirlooms. Sung in the voice of Sasperela Rue. Songs by Elizabeth Ola Belle Fontaine. Every word written by hand — the grief is real. Listen on Spotify. ============================== THE AMERICAN WAKE (THE BANSHEE) Have you heard the quiet hushes Over Ireland’s emerald green The wild wind that whips the rushes The Pilibín that shakes the reed That stone wall’s our family’s sentry Now doors hang wide, no footsteps fall Slievemore’s cottages stand empty Even the cuckoo has lost its call Our pratie patch is black with blight Clothes smell of sweet rot'n Da’s low Soon, coffin trap and pit by night Hear the bean sí keen his woe The coffin takes him, cold and white No marker stone, no six feet deep Ditch with neighbors dead left and right The trap swings, Da drops. Bean sí weeps They held our wake alive, night before Then watched us as we fade from shore And she says Tá mo stór tar éis seoladh thar sáile Go dtí tír atá i bhfad i gcéin Imithe go deo gan rún filleadh Agus slán, is níl fágtha ach deora le sileadh Ochón ó, a stór Tá tú imithe thar farraige mhór Scaradh géar go deo Gan "Dia duit" eile níos mó Ochón ó, a stór Scaradh géar go deo * I ain’t seen sun in three whole days No warmth below us, only fever Strange faces round; we’re castaways Already our passing grieves her Weevils to eat in salted meat Rancid as hope in this foul drum What? No! Jenny! No, not my sweet Oh, I didn’t think you’d succumb I’ve heard the bean sí keen for you Each night since we pulled out of port Oh Jenny, how will I get through Your hand’s so cold, your breath is short They give you over to the sea A slate-gray grave, a weeping sky No ditch, no trap. At least you’re free The bean sí keens her last goodbye And she says Tá mo stór tar éis seoladh thar sáile Go dtí tír atá i bhfad i gcéin Imithe go deo gan rún filleadh Agus slán, is níl fágtha ach deora le sileadh Ochón ó, a stór Tá tú imithe thar farraige mhór Scaradh géar go deo Gan "Dia duit" eile níos mó Ochón ó, a stór Scaradh géar go deo New shores at last. Folk here are strange Signs say No Irish Need Apply We’ll dig their coal mines for a wage And raise our young ones by and by That’s what we said. Been fifty years My grandson drives me in at dawn He can’t hear what catches my ears The bean sí keens. Soon I’ll be gone And she says Tá mo stór tar éis seoladh thar sáile Go dtí tír atá i bhfad i gcéin Imithe go deo gan rún filleadh Agus slán, is níl fágtha ach deora le sileadh Ochón ó, a stór Tá tú imithe thar farraige mhór Scaradh géar go deo Gan "Dia duit" eile níos mó Ochón ó, a stór Scaradh géar go deo == Irish Gaelic translation by Ciara Hall. My darling has sailed beyond the sea To a land that is far from home Gone forever, never to return, And goodbye, with nothing left but tears to shed. Alas, oh, my darling, You’re gone over the wide sea, A bitter parting forever, Never another “hello” again. Alas, oh, my darling, A bitter parting forever. — These recordings involve generative AI. #folksong #ballad #americana #singersongwriter