The Fiddler of Dooney

The Fiddler of Dooney When I play on my fiddle in Dooney, Folk dance like a wave of the sea; My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet, My brother in Moharabuiee. I passed my brother and cousin: They read in their books of prayer; I read in my book of songs I bought at the Sligo […]

The Song of Wandering Aengus

The Song of Wandering Aengus I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And […]

The Stolen Child

This is one of Rebel Voice’s favourite poems. Although W.B. Yeats was an obnoxious arsehole by all accounts, he could still pen some beautiful verse. This is but one of them. Anyone who has travelled through the beautiful Irish county of Sligo will be aware of the scenery of which Yeats writes. The headline picture […]