by Genevieve Williams
"In the merry month of May, From my home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam, Nearly broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, Kissed my darlin' mother,
Drank a pint of beer, My grief and tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn, And leave where I was born,
I cut a stout blackthorn, To banish ghost and goblin,
In a brand new pair of brogues, I rattled o'er the bogs,
And frightened all the dogs, On the rocky road to Dublin.""Rocky Road to Dublin," Traditional
The site upon which the city of Dublin stands has been inhabited for 2000 years, although the first historical records date to the ninth century A.D. Subject to multiple invasions and nearly destroyed more than once, the capital of Ireland survived, remaining a cultural, historical, commercial, and technological center to the present day.
As Irish immigrants crossed the Atlantic to the United States, they brought their music with them. Irish music has always been popular in the U.S., and never more so than in recent years; there are labels devoted exclusively to the genre, and some Irish bands, such as the Chieftains, play to packed houses wherever they tour. Naturally, included in the body of Irish music are songs of Dublin, and plenty of these songs crossed the ocean as well; sung references to leaving Dublin for America abound.
"Rocky Road to Dublin," like many Dublin songs, claims "Traditional" as its authorship. The song is thought to be relatively recent, of 19th century vintage, but is widely performed by groups playing Irish music. It relates the fairly common tale of the young man leaving his small town for the wider world, with a hint of mystery and spookiness thrown in for good measure. While the song may be recent, the type of tune, called the slip jig, is not; it's heard quite often in the genre. In fact, while the song does have lyrics, it's also frequently performed instrumentally, something that is true of many Irish songs. (And while the road to Dublin is rocky, it's also crooked, as the reel "Crooked Road to Dublin" attests.)
Like many songs about almost any city, songs about Dublin play off of a sense of place, which permeates the song even when it's about something else. Case in point is "Dublin Fusiliers," a war song of unknown authorship about the legendary militia, but one that was clearly written on the cusp of modern warfare: "Well, you've heard about the Indians with their tommy hawks and spears/And of the UN warriors the heroes of recent years/Also I might mention the British Grenadiers/Well none of them were in it but the Dublin Fusiliers." In referring to wars present and past, the song shows a keen sense of Dublin's ancient history: "The time that Julius Ceasar tried to land down at Ringsend/The coastguards couldn't stop them, so for the Dublins they did send/And just as they were landing, lads, we heard three ringing cheers/'Get back to Rome like blazes, here's the Dublin Fusiliers'."
Equally aware of history, although in a different way, is the traditional "Dublin in the Rare Auld Times," said title a reference to just how much better things were in the old days. (In fact, the title has become a sort of catchphrase meaning exactly that, though it is sometimes used sarcastically.) The song, told from the point of view of one Shaun Dempsey, laments the transformation of Dublin from picturesque town to modern city; once again, with more than a hint of mysticism thrown in: "Raised on songs and stories, heroes of renown/On passing tales and glories that once were Dublin Town/The hallowed halls and houses, the haunting children`s rhymes/That once were part of Dublin in the rare auld times."
Dublin, like many cities, is also associated with women; sometimes, with a specific woman. One of the best-known such songs, "Molly Malone," is a brief, sad musing on the girl of the title, and begins "In Dublin's fair city/Where the girls are so pretty" before concluding on a definite down note: "She died of a fever/And no one could save her/And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone/Now her ghost wheels her barrow/Through streets broad and narrow…."
"Dublin Lady" is attributed to John Connolly, best known as the writer of "Fiddler's Green," a sailors' song of a mythical land. However, like so many Irish songs, it's also attributed to that famous composer, Traditional. It's the tale of a woman who misses her "sailor laddie," out on the sea carrying cargo. She, perhaps not without reason, blames her misfortune on the ships: "It's because of the Irish Sea so narrow with no reef/It's because of those ships that do sail/Dublin Lady has to sit and weep alone all in her grief/It's because of those ships that do sail." Dublin, of course, is and was a major port, with shipping as a major component of the city's economy.
The city's association with the sea is apparent in other songs as well, including at least one version of the song "Farewell to Dublin," which also shows a keen awareness of the city's turbulent history: "I'm going away to leave you, my friends and all the girls too/Till I return to see you farewell old Dublin town/To the City of our fathers where friend and foe have gathered/Where the Norman, Dane and Saxon have mingled with the Gael/Administered the kingdom and soon the Pale was reeling/To cradle Ireland's freedom in dear old Dublin town." Indeed, as others have often observed, much of Dublin's history, and Ireland's history for that matter, is told in song.
Consider, for instance, "O'Donovan Rossa's Farewell to Dublin," which tells the story of an episode in Irish history: "Cheer up my gallant Fenian men/The day is not far away/When our Fenian boys the flag will raise/And trample tyranny/Our gallant sons beyond the seas/Will join in unity/And we will raise the flag of freedom/And fight for liberty." It refers to Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, who was a member of a group of nationalist revolutionaries known as the Fenians, and was sent to prison and eventually left for America in the late 1800s.
Dublin is, perhaps, somewhat unusual in having so many instrumental pieces named after it; from "The Dublin Reel" to "The Flags of Dublin," instrumental pieces, and songs played as instrumentals, are common. They, too, are part of the city's history; a history that, more than that of any other city, is told through song.
Genevieve Williams is a freelance writer specializing in music, book reviews, and film. She is a former music editor for Amazon.com and a regular contributor to Blues Revue.