Ireland, photo by Debbie Newman

It is one of the many other-worlds of ancient Ireland, a nice and beautiful one, where the Pre-Christian gods engage in poetry, music, entertainment, and being fed by the hospitable metalsmith, Goibniu. Tír na nÓg is the land of eternal youth, where you can be tricked, if you want to call it a trick, by the sídhe into dancing for hours, days, years, forever, because dancing is joyous. It’s said that most everyone in Ireland at least passively believes in the sídhe.

It’s pronounced “tear na nOOg” – the first word sounds like crying, or rhymes with “here” – whichever is more appropriate.

Many poets, storytellers, and musicians have been captivated by the mystery of Tír na nÓg, including Michéal Ó Coimín, Robert Dale Klein and Cindy Morgan, and William Butler Yeats.

“There is a country called Tír na nÓg, which means the Country of the Young, for age and death have not found it; neither tears nor loud laughter have gone near it … One man has gone there and returned. The bard, Oisín, who wandered away on a white horse, moving on the surface of the foam with his fairy lover Niamh, lived three hundred years there, and then returned looking for his father and his comrades. The moment his foot touched the earth his three hundred years fell on him, and he was bowed double, and his beard swept the ground.”

– William Butler Yeats, “The Wanderings of Oisín” (1889)

I’ve told you before, in my first blog post here at FolkWorks, how I accidentally wrote a wonderful song called “Home” with Steve Gillette during the pandemic lockdown. The shutting-down of all travel interrupted the plans SG and his partner Cindy Mangsen had made to revisit Ireland – hotel and flight deposits were irretrievable. So his epic work, Tír na nÓg, is currently a work-in-progress.

These days, Steve is in the final stages of mixing his ‘Best Of’ compilation. Some time in July, he thinks, he’ll get back to the Irish project in earnest. Southern Vermont has some wonderful traditional players, ” an embarrassment of riches” he calls it, so I’m sure this magnum opus will be eventual and magnificent.

Mr. Gillette is a fine storyteller and graceful writer; I encourage you to peruse his website, About The Song. That link right there will get you to his full write-up on this project, but I will excerpt it conveniently for you:

This song and narration, and the video about a young man lost at sea, are a part of what will be a much larger work: a love story, a quest, and an exploration of the lives and work of a few great poets. It’s all in the hope of a better understanding of our place in the world, and to help to alleviate the pain and sadness that accompanies the recognition that all lives must come to an end.

My tune, “Tír na nÓg” is simple. It relies on a mixture of major and minor themes which should be a familiar tactic to those who have followed these articles. The sheet music is available for purchase (here), but the melody is easy to hear in the progression of chords, and one can play along with the video. As with many traditional tunes there is an A part and a B part. Sometimes they will be simply alternated, and sometimes one part may be repeated. This can cause some furtive eyebrow gymnastics across the circle as players try to predict the sequence. Not to worry, it’s all to the good.

This piece is really a preamble to the bigger project. It concerns a young fisherman from a previous generation, blown out to sea in a storm and facing what seems surely to be the end of his life. Confronted in this way, he conjures the heroes of his own mythology, which I suggest is all that any of us can ever really do.

You might say that songwriting is my religion, but that wouldn’t be quite right. It’s my work, and maybe the way I make my peace with the world. I like to think that it keeps me growing in important ways, coping and communicating, and I try to honor the process with the diligence it deserves. It struck me a long time ago that if you are that earnest young fellow showing up at the door of the muse and her father asks you about your intentions, it’s good to be straight about your desire. Are you just looking for a cheap thrill, or are you open to the possibility of a soul-connection, a partnership with the highest-best. All the muse asks of you is an honest dialog.

debora Ewing writes, paints, and screams at the stars because the world is still screwed up. She improves what she can withmusic collaboration, peer-review atConsilience Poetry Journal, or designing & editing books forIgneus Press. Follow @DebsValidation onX andInstagram. Read her self-distractions atFolkWorks.org andJerryJazzMusician.com.