Henry's Songbook

Down Raglan Road on an August day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might one day rue
I saw the danger yet I walked
Along the enchanted way
And I said, Let grief be a falling leaf
At the dawning of the day

Down Grafton Street in November
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passion's pledge
The Queen of Hearts was baking tarts
And I not making hay
For I loved too much, like such, like such
Is happiness thrown away

Now I gave her secrets of the mind
I gave her the sign that's known
Unto the artist who has pledged
The true God of clay and stone
And word or hint I did not stint
For I gave her poems to say
With her own name there and her long dark hair
Like clouds o'er the fields in May

Down a quiet street where the old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly
My reason must allow
That I had loved not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos his wings he'll lose
At the dawning of the day

(as sung by Arthur Johnstone)

Tune: Fainne Geal an Lae (The Dawning of the Day)

[1977:] Learned from Al O'Donnell. A poem by Patrick Kavanagh to a traditional tune, it could only be about Dublin. (Notes Dick Gaughan, 'Kist o' Gold')

[1989:] This was written by the Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh and set to the traditional tune Fainne Geal an Lae (The Dawning of the Day) by Luke Kelly of The Dubliners. (Notes Arthur Johnstone, 'North By North')

[1990:] [Andy Hunter found] a beautiful air called The Dawning of the Day. He married it to words about walking down Kilbowie Hill from where he lived up on Cochno Road above Hardgate. Luke Kelly of the Dubliners happened to set the same tune to a poem by Patrick Cavanagh [sic!] to make a song called Raglan Road. Cavanagh also uses 'at the dawning of the day' as a last line to his verses - perhaps he had the tune in mind when he wrote. Andy Hunter had not heard Luke Kelly's song when he made his own. 'When I did hear it, it shook me rigid. Perhaps the tune makes you think of writing in certain ways?' (McVicar, One Singer One Song 74)

[1994:] Raglan Road can be sung in a manner so maudlin as to make it almost unbearable, but that clearly wasn't the way Patrick Kavanagh wanted it sung. Luke told the following story in an interview in 1980: 'I was sitting in a pub in Dublin, The Bailey, and as you know in the old days - it's changed a bit now - it was known as a literary pub, an artistic pub. I happened to be sitting there in the same company with Patrick Kavanagh and one or two other poets, and someone asked him to recite a poem, which he did, and then someone asked me to sing a song which I did. Being in the presence of the great man I was very nervous. Then he leaned over to me and said in that sepulchral voice of his - he could hardly get his voice out, he was very old ... it was just the year before he died - and he said 'You should sing my song,' and I said 'What's that, Mr Kavanagh?' and he said 'Raglan Road''. So he gave me permission. I got permission from the man himself.' (Geraghty, Luke Kelly 38f)

See also
http://www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=33281#445208
http://www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=29901