In days done by people would walk over the mountain to be part of a folk music night just to share a story , a poem or a song
The crowd came in early to the pub and slowly the session began with a few people breaking the ice with an unaccompanied song or two and as things warmed up a bit we would all be sitting drinking with some friends there in an Irish bar , singing , Molly Malone , fine girl you are , oh give your hand , whiskey in the jar .
The night was young and we had just begun , we sang another one and drank another one and the songs that are as many as any of us could ever remember .
The English speaking and Irish speaking folk with their straight-talking ways and their fine singing folkish ways was a gift we all shared with storytelling with a joke or two thrown in for good measure . A rare combination of talent that comes naturally to some .
As the night went on there were a few who could hardly stand on their feet without falling over and so they sat down on a bar stool trying to keep their balance but they kept singing with the sound of the heart space of folk music that never missed a beat even though some were nearly falling off their seat they never forgot a word when reciting or singing their poetry or songs .
My grandfather would play the accordion , my mother could dance and when I got the chance, I would sing a song of my own .
It was already long past closing time when we all sang together until we shared the parting glass . There were always a few young children waiting in cars outside the pub where the folk music session was happening . Their father was inside playing the fiddle and they grew up with the memories of listening to him playing all of the old folk songs . Sometimes there was a granny who came to play the harp that had to be carried by her grandson .
In those time gone past in a back room of a pub at the folk session night and many of those there had walked over the mountain to be part of the craic .
One of those nights when the session was over , the fog had come down thick and fast and the blind man Jim O’Driscoll took a few people home safely over the mountain because he knew every step of the way back to the village in the valley .
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I will always remember those folk session nights and the people who made it happen . It’s a shame that nothing had ever been recorded .
It was all live on the spot as it happened . Folk music at its best .
The people were reared on the stuff and they loved to sing and play every chance they could get . God be with the days and the people who brought meaning to what folk music is all about .
People like that walked the street whistling and singing tunes ,
for it lived and breathed in their heart since the first day they could speak . They hardly said a word because they sang most of the time even when no one was listening . They hard working , straight talking , street walking men and women of the day who found peace in the world and music was the lifeline that let them going .
In moments of grief , they had a belief that released a song or poem to help them through until the dawn of a new day returned with its soft morning dew , to a place they all knew where the folk music brought them alive .
