Drimman Dubh, or Dear Black Cow
| TYPE | 3 - Complex Melody |
| TOPIC | Political |
| TUNE STRUCTURE | 16 bars |
| VERSE STRUCTURE | 1v given |
| TIME SIGNATURE | 38 |
| KEY SIGNATURE | ♯ |
| TONAL CENTRE | E |
| INCIPIT | GF♯EED♯EF♯GF♯EDE |
| TEXT SOURCE | Bunting Notebooks. Special Collections, QUB Library. MS 4.11 (1796-1809) no.18 |
| TUNE SOURCE | Bunting Notebooks. Special Collections, QUB Library. MS 4.13 (1796-1809) no.119 |
| FIRST LINE | Dirghe me mach ar maidin de Domhnaigh |
| NOTATED INCIPIT | |
| The manuscript states: 'Very ancient. Author and date unknown. A poor Irishman's lament for the loss of his cow'. However, in his 1840 publication, Bunting indicates that the song had developed to become part of the Jacobite song repertoire, with the 'black cow' taking on the guise of King James. The original scribe may simply not have understood the meaning of the Gaelic when he first heard the song. A slightly different set of words is attached to the original manuscript. | |
Druimin Dubh ÓDirghe me mach ar maidin de DomhniaghAgus fuair me mo dhruin dubh báidhte bpoll mónadhGhred me mo bhossa agus leig me na gárthaAmhaif sda ndeanadh sin druimin dubh beó dhom.Ó ru dhruimin dubh o ru ghradhÓ ru dhruimin dubh dhilis bhreaghÓ ru dhruimin dubh o ru ghradhÓ ru dhruimin dubh dilios go dti tu slanNi dheachaigh riain buarach suas ar coisAon bho bu cosamhla leis an glaisSi bu mhó bainne is ba mhillse blasMo bhrón chreach maínne nach feadam mo leasÓ ru dhruimin dubh o ru ghradhÓ ru dhruimin dubh dhilis bhreaghÓ ru dhruimin dubh o ru ghradhÓ ru dhruimin dubh dilios go dti tu slan
DruimindubhVersion 1 (from this MS)As I went out on a Sunday morning,I heard my black cow drowned in a moss hole,I clapped my two hands and gave a great shout,In hope it would bring my dear cow to life again.Ough a ree Drumman Dubh oThere never went a spanshell of the foot,Of a cow that so much tumbled the glass,She gave the most milk and of the sweetest taste,My grief and mournful distress I cannot deny.Ough a ree Drumman Dubh oVersion 2 (from Bunting, 1840)Ah drimindhu deelish, my darling black cow,Say where are your folk, be they living or no?They are down in the ground ‘neath the sod lying low,Expecting King James with the crown on his brow.But if I could get sight of the crown on his brow,By night and day travelling to London I’d go,Over mountains of mist and black mosses below,‘Till I’d beat on the kettle-drums drimindubh O!Welcome home, welcome home, drimindubh O!Good was your sweet-milk for drinking, I trow;With your face like a rose, and your dewlap of snow,I’ll part from you never, my drimindubh O!