[The Wren, Out In The Ocean, traditional jig]. >> Man: Open the door! [knocking] Open the door and let us in! >> Girl: [singing] The wren, the wren, the king of all birds. >> Man: [knocking] Open the door and let us in! Hi! Open the door! >>Girl: [singing] The wren, the wren, the king of all birds. [whisper echo]. [singing] The wren, the wren, the king of all birds. [overlapping with whispered echo]. >>: Man: Open the door! >> Girl: [whispering, singing overlapping]. The wren, the wren, the king of all birds. >> Man: Let us in! >> Girl: The wren, the wren, the king of all birds. [whispered] The wren, the wren, [singing] The wren wren, the king of all birds. [chanting begins] >> Girl: The wren, the wren, the king of all birds. >> Chorus: [chanting overlapping] up with the kettle down with the pan Give us a penny to bury the wren The wren, the wren, The king of all birds Saint Stephen’s day was caught in the furze. Up with the kettle and down with the pan. Give us a penny to bury the wren. The wren, the wren, the king of all birds, Saint Stephen’s day was caught in the furze. Up with the kettle and down with the pan. Give us a penny to bury the wren. >>Woman: [singing] As I was going to Lisbellaw, I met a wren upon the wall. I threw me stick and I knocked him down. and brought him back to Carrick Town. >>: Man: [singing] I have a little box under me arm, Under me arm, under me arm. I have a little box under me arm a penny or tuppence will do you no harm. >> Woman: Dreolín, dreolín where’s your nest, it’s in the bush that I love best. In the tree the holly tree where all the boys do follow me. >> Duet: [singing] Mrs. O’Connor’s a very good woman, A very good woman, a very good woman. Mrs O’Connor’s a very good woman she gave us a penny to bury the wren. [Instrumental] >> Man: Open the door and let us in! We hope your favour we shall win. Room room, me gallant boys, give us room to rhyme, and we’ll show you some activity this happy festive time. Act of youth and act of age, never acted on the stage. And if you don’t believe a word I say, enter in Biddy Funny and she will clear the way. >> Woman: Here come I, wee Biddy Funny. I’m the wee woman that collects the money. All silver, no brass. Bad pennies won’t pass! [Instrumental] Duet: [singing] Mrs O’Connor’s a very good woman, a very good woman, a very good woman. Mrs O’Connor’s a very good woman, she give us a penny to bury the wren. The wren, the wren, the king of all birds. Saint Stephen’s day was caught in the furze. Up with the kettle and out with the pan. [chanting] Give us a penny, give us a penny, give us a penny, give us a penny, [singing] give us a penny to bury the wren! [piano music with woman's voice humming]. . >>Woman: ‘The Christmas Rhymers, Ballynure, 1941, An Old Woman Remembers’ by John Hewitt The Christmas Rhymers came again last year. Wee boys with blackened faces at the door. Not like those strapping lads that would appear, Dressed for the mummers’ parts in times before. To act the old play on the kitchen floor. At war work now or fighting overseas. My neighbours’ sons, there’s hardly one of these that will be coming back here anymore. I gave them coppers, bid them turn and go, And as I watched that rueful regiment head for the road, I felt that with them went those songs we sang, the rhymes we used to know. Heartsore, imagining the years without, The doctor, the dandy, and wee divil doubt. >> Woman: [singing] Lonely I wander through scenes of my childhood. They bring back to memory those happy days of yore. Gone are the old folk, the house stands deserted. No light at the window, no welcome at the door. Here’s where the children played games on the heather. Here’s where they sailed their wee boats on the Boyne. Where are they now, some are dead some have wandered, no more to their homes will the children return. [Instrumental] Lonely the house now and lonely the morning. The children have scattered, the old folk are gone. Why stand out here like a ghost or a shadow? It’s time I was moving, it’s time I passed on. It’s time I was moving, it’s time I passed on. [music] [Saint Colmcille, Bank of Ireland and Ships are Sailing, traditional reels.] >> Man: [speaking] Here am I Saint Colmcille, a soldier of Niall’s lordy race. where in sceptres long I’ve swayed, and never in disgrace, A Christian there I was baptized by the saintly Cru-na-Chan. Peace peace shall bless this God loved isle. And Éireann it shall be free, My tale is told, my task is done and no longer I delay. So here’s a couple of reels, to clear the way. [Instrumental] [Saint Brendan, ‘The Voyage of St Brendan’ by Dennis Florence McCarthy, Morrison’s Jig, traditional, Haul Away Joe, traditional ] [drumming] >> Man: Here am I, Saint Brendan, the navigator. It was the fairest, the sweetest scene, the freshest, sunniest smiling land, that e’er held over the waves. it’s arms of sheltering green, onto the sea and the storm vexed mariner. no barren waste its gentle bosom scarred, nor suns that burned nor breezes’ wings of ice. nor giant rocks, nature’s grey ruins, marred the perfect features of that paradise. And if you don’t believe what I say, sure here’s a wee song… [Instrumental]. >> Man: [singing] When I was a little boy, or so my mother told me, >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe. >>Man: [singing] That if I didn’t kiss the girls my lips would grow all mouldy. >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe. >> Man: Hey >> Chorus: Ho! >> Man: [snging] Haul away, we’re bound for better weather. >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe. >>Man: Hey. >>Chorus: Ho! >> Man: [singing] Haul away, the good ship she is sailin’ >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe [Instrumental] >>Man: [singing] King Louis was the king of France before the revolution. >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe. >> Man: [singing] He went and got his head cut off before the constitution. >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe. >> Man: Hey >>Chorus: Ho! >> Man: Haul away,we’re bound for better weather. >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe. >> Man: Hey >> Chorus: Ho! >> Man: [singing] Haul away, the good ship she is sailin’. >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe Man: Ho! [instrumental] >> Man: [singing] Once I had an Irish girl, but she was fat and lazy. >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe. >> Man: Then I had a Scottish girl, she damn near drove me crazy, >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe >> Man: Hey! >> Chorus: Ho! >>Man: [singing] Haul away, we’re boundz for better weather >> Chorus: Way haul away, we’ll haul away joe >> Man: Hey! >> Chorus: Ho! >> Man: [singing] Haul away, the good ship she is sailin’. >> Chorus: Way haul away, we haul away joe. >>Man: Ho! [Instrumental] >> Man: And here comes Saint Brigid. [piano music] Saint Brigid, St Brigid’s Cross by Jinx Lennon, Poem, author unknown. >>Woman: Saint Brigid’s cross hung over the door, Which did your home from fire secure. As Uncle Mick thought, oh powerful charm, Keep us all from taking harm. And as our dogs and servants slept, By Biddy’s care the house was kept. >> Woman [singing] So take off your old socks, it’s too good of a day. All around us on the hillsides see the mourners as they pray. Well their eyes were like frost for a very long time. You are cross, and we are lost now on our way to St. Brigid’s shrine. So get out of the house, don’t pull down the blinds. All the old green-eyed monsters are playing hopscotch with your mind. Well my eyes were like frost for a very long time, You are cross, and we are lost now on our way to St. Brigid’s shrine. Ooooohhhh…[instrumental]. Now the sweat on your brow, you sit under a tree. I can see through the green foliage to the place where it’s supposed to be. There is someone with a host shouting ‘bout their divine You are cross, and we are lost now on our way to Saint Brigid’s shrine. You are cross, and we are lost now on our way to Saint Brigid’s shrine. [The Druid, The Druid Lynch & McGuinness] >> Man: Like dolmens round my childhood, the old people. Ancient Ireland indeed, I was reared by her bedside. The rune and the chant, The evil eye and inverted head Fomorian fierceness of family and local feud. For years they trespassed on my dreams, Until once, in a standing circle of stone, I felt their shadows pass, Into that dark permanence of ancient form. >> Woman: Are you a druid? >> Man: Leave me in peace. Again, the old world dies. >> Woman: How old is the world? >> Man: Three fields to a tree. >> Woman: Three trees. >> Man: To a hound, >> Woman: Three hounds, >> Man: To a horse, >> Woman: Three horses! >> Man: To a man! >> Woman: Three men. >> Man: Make a deer. >> Woman: Three deer. >> Man: Make an eagle, >> Woman: Three eagles…. >> Man: Make a salmon >> Woman: Three salmon >> Man: To a yew! >> Woman: Three yews. >> Man: Three yews. That’s the age of the world. You can tell Saint Patrick that. [Instrumental] >> Puppet: Look out, look out! Covid 19 is about! I’m after your fingers and toes. And all through the night, me the little gay sprite, I’m working where nobody knows. Covid 19 is me name! And for all this trouble yes, I am to blame! They say no man is safe from my embrace. All today will stare death in the face. None of youse do stand a chance. All will learn my merry dance. Which saint of Ireland will before me dare stand? You sir? >> Woman: Aye, me sir. >> Puppet: Well who are you sir? >> Woman: Saint Patrick >> Puppet: Saint Patrick who? >> Woman: Saint Patrick doesn’t need a second name. >> Puppet: But you’re only a wee small… woman. >> Woman: The perfect match, and that my sword shall tell. Prepare yourself to die today and bid your friends’ farewell. >> Puppet: I know your sort, youse are always sellin’ somethin’. >> Woman: Ooo. I have some nutritious well-water here from the tree county hollow. Full of wellness clarity and the essence of 365 native wild species flowers. Ooh and a wee vaccine goin’ three for a Pfizer if you’ll take it. >> Puppet: I’ll take it, have it you sir! >> Woman: Haha! Covid 19, 20, 21. I banish you like I banish the snakes out of Ireland. Here we go! Woo! Huh! [blows] >> >> Puppet: Curses my bloodlust. I'm only gettin started. Get off me. huh! wooo! Uh! [blows] Whooo!! Oh me and pest control I’ll get ya! Banish you! ooooo ahhh, hrrrrsss, huh. oooooo. [fighting sounds] Uh, Urp. Eeee! [thump]. >> Puppet: Curses my bloodlust is only partially curbed. Now I must fly to my earthly bed and leave her here quite dead. >> Woman: Corona, Corona! Look at what you’ve gone and done! You’ve went and killed me only son. >> Puppet: He challenged me to a fight sir! And why should I deny him sir! I’ll cut him into five quarters on the ground where he does lay! >> Woman: If you cut him into five quarters, it’s your body I’ll soon destroy. Oh a doctor, a doctor, ten pound for a doctor! Will one of ye go for a doctor? Ach, wee Doctor Brown. He’s the best wee ten-pound doctor in Portadown. >>Man: Here come I Doctor Brown. The best wee doctor in Portadown. The doctor comes in, stinkin’ of gin. and they all call him “Nancy”. He picks up Saint Patrick and puts him on the table. Here come I, a doctor pure and good, and with my sword, I’ll staunch this young man’s blood. What’s wrong with him? >> Woman: He’s dead. >> Man: Dead! Where is he dead? >> Woman: He’s dead from the toe to the top of the head. >> Man: He’s full of ringworm. I’ll have to drench him. >> Woman: And what medicine do you have doctor? >> Man: Hens pens, peezy weezies. bumbees eggs and midge’s bacon. The brains of a hatchet and the wool of a frog. and the knucklebone of a bumblebee. A greyhound’s egg, six mile long. The heart and liver of a creepy stool. The brains of an anvil. The giblets of a dishcloth. Put that into a wren’s blether and stir it carefully with a cat’s feather. Take that fourteen fortnights before day and if it doesn’t kill ya in five, it’ll cure ya in twenty-five. >> Woman: Doctor, doctor, what can you cure? >> Man: I can cure the plague within the plague without, the palsy and the gout, the ringworm and the skitters, and the long spit out. I can cure the plague, the wee plague, the plague within, the Covid 19, the plague without. The pip, the poo, the palsy, and the gout. Moreover I can make an old woman on crutches burst her britches. Lepping over stone hedges and white thorn ditches. Hand me the jump leads! I’ll start ‘em! [sound of electricity] Get up Saint Patrick! Get up the hell outta that! Get up there and fight again. >> Man: The door’s on the latch, the turf burns red. Turn low the lamp and go to bed! For on this night, them that’s away will be back again out of the clay. They come in the dark to the warm turf. From the coal sack and the sea surf. And you, my love, can breathe a prayer, for the wakened dead that’s gathered there. But ‘er it comes to the break of day. Tread softly or they’ll slip away. When morning comes, you’ll rise from bed and find in the hearth the turf still red, and creepy, and tongs, and stool and chair, be all the way you left them there. But you’ll draw the blind with a touch of fear, for you’ll know in your heart there are strangers here. Peace be with each wandering guest. God be with them… [footsteps] and give them rest. [door closes] [Brian Boru’s March, traditional jig]