A raibh tu ag an gCarraig
(Tune: Have you seen my valentine)
| TYPE | 3 - Complex Melody |
| TOPIC | Love |
| TUNE STRUCTURE | A8 B8 |
| VERSE STRUCTURE | 6v 4l |
| TIME SIGNATURE | 34 |
| KEY SIGNATURE | (♭) |
| TONAL CENTRE | D |
| INCIPIT | GE'E'D'E'E'F♯'G'F♯'E'F♯'D' |
| GENRE | Amhrán Mór |
| TEXT SOURCE | Edward Walsh, Irish Popular Songs (Dublin: J. McGlashan, 1847), pp.72-75 |
| TUNE SOURCE | Edward Bunting, A General Collection of the Ancient Irish Music (Dublin: W. Power & Co., 1796) MS24 O 19: 218 no.1. |
| FIRST LINE | An raibh tú ag an g-Carraig, nó bh-faca tú féin mo ghrádh |
| NOTATED INCIPIT | |
| This song remains in the common repertory today. The opening line, 'Have you seen my love?' has been considered by some, including the Galway singer Seosamh Ó hÉanaí, to have been used to disguise arrangements for secret Catholic masses during the times of the Penal Laws, which forbade the practice of the Roman Catholic religion. If the answer to the question in the second verse was 'Yes, I have seen her', then it was safe to visit the mass rock ('carraig' being the Irish for 'rock') on Sunday. However, if the answer was no, then it was to be avoided. However, Edward Walsh's publication makes no reference to this alternative meaning to what is ostensibly a love song. The tune is found in several collections, the earliest of which is Bunting, under the common C19th translation of 'Have you seen my valentine'. | |
HAVE YOU BEEN AT CARRICK?Have you been at Carrick, and saw you my true-love there?And saw you her features, all beautiful, bright, and fair?Saw you the most fragrant, flowering, sweet apple-tree? – O! saw you my lov’d one, and pines she in grief like me?II.I have been at Carrick, and saw thy own true-love there;And saw, too, her features, all beautiful, bright, and fair;And saw the most fragrant, flowering, sweet apple-tree – I saw thy lov’d one – she pines not in grief, like thee!III.Five guineas would price every tress of her golden hair – Then think what a treasure her pillow at night to share,These tresses thick-clustering and curling around her brow – O, Ringlet of Fairness! I’ll drink to thy beauty now!IV.When seeking to slumber, my bosom is rent with sighs – I toss on my pillow till morning’s blest beams arise;No aid, bright Beloved! Can reach me save GOD above,For a blood-lake is form’d of the light of my eyes with love!V.Until yellow Autumn shall usher the Paschal day,And Patrick’s gay festival come in its train always– Until through my coffin the blossoming boughs shall grow,My love on another I’ll never in life bestow!VI.Lo! yonder the maiden illustrious, queen-like, high,With long-flowing tresses adown to her sandal-tie – Swan, fair as the lily, descended of high degree,A myriad of welcomes, dear maid of my heart, to thee!