THE RARE OULD TUNES

The 14th of August 1606 is a date which lives in a dark corner of the Irish cultural pschye. On said occasion, a Bermuda Chapter of the Salvation Army Marching Band invaded County Clare wielding tubas, cymbals and a particularly alarming assemblage of French horns. They murdered all tunes before them until they came to the town of Ennis and laid siege to it's sturdy walls. In an extraordinary turn of events the town held fast behind the stalwart tin whistles of three milkmaids (playing 'The Kiltimagh Jig') until reinforcements, (in the form of Dicky Rock and the Chieftains,) leapt out from behind a barrel of lard and sent the Sally bastardos packing.
What any of that has to do with archaeology beats the pants off me but I thought it as good a way as any to introduce my reworked version of a rare ould tune. This nouvelle chanson is a savvy archaeological reworking of the Celtic ballad 'Dan O'Hara.' 
For those of you not steeped in the melody of this particular Gaelic folk tune please listen to no less a minstrel than Mr. Rory Gallagher playing it HERE.
(Poor old Rory, I really think he could have been a success if only he had cut his hair and worn a nice suit - and a spot of Mum deodorant wouldn't have harmed either.)

Ignore that. It's not pertinent.

Now with Rory's tub-thumping melody ringing in yer bonce, get yer backside off that seat, stamp yer shanks, clap yer mitts and sing the fine words below with devotion - Be ye Briton, be ye Bantu, be ye Yankee Doodle Dandy I care not a bent Irish tuppence, let us stand shoulder to shoulder and intone ensemble so that Christendom might hear our mighty anthem ring out across the ages.

But before beginning I think it judicious to explain that the words 'Achusla geal machree' are pronounced 'A-cush-lah gal muh-kree' and translate loosely as: 'folk music gives me a pain in the tit.'

THE ARCHAEOLOGIST'S LAMENT

Come listen to my gig,
I am the man who digs,
I do it with esteem and great composure.

I sift the gentle soil

With cautious gentle toil
But mostly I just use a big bulldozer.

Achusla geal machree,
I'm in archaeology,

It once made me fat around the middle.
Qualified? That's me!
Don't I have a Pee-haych-dee!!

But now I'm stacking shelves in f**king Lidl.

In the year of zero four
The Celtic Tiger it did roar,
My vocation felt like it was fuelled with pro-pane
I wiped my bum with loot,
Wore Juicy Couture tracksuits,
And breakfasted on truffles, gin and co-caine.

Achusla geal machree,
I'm in archaeology,
It once made me fat around the middle.
Qualified? That's me!
Don't I have a Pee-haych-dee!!

But now I'm stacking shelves in f**king Lidl.

I used to make big dough,

But little did I know,

I had bought myself a seat on the Ti-tanic.
Then a recession-based iceberg
Saw my career submerged
Jaysus, I'm a total arse-mechanic.

Achusla geal machree,
I'm in archaeology,
It once made me fat around the middle.
Qualified? That's me!
Don't I have a Pee-haych-dee!!
But now I'm stacking shelves in f**king Lidl.

So take warning from my tune
Don't be a fruity loon,
Don't saddle your career upon a trow-el,
Or you'll end up just like me
In the retail industry
Arranging shelves of sanitary tow-els.

Achusla geal machree,
I'm in archaeology,
It once made me fat around the middle.
Qualified? That's me!

Don't I have a Pee-haych-dee!!

But now I'm stacking shelves in f**king Lidl.

***

Have a KICK-ASS Halloween!! Light a big bonfire, eat apples and nuts to excess and don't be afraid to say boo to goose.

And to finish: