A wonderful evening of music and song is being embraced with news that the Ormond Octaves Choir, with special guests, Music Generation Tipperary, will perform in concert at the Cathedral of the Assumption, Cathedral Street, Thurles, in just under 12 days’ time, on Friday, May 2nd, 2025.
Thurles Cathedral.
The Ormond Octaves choir consisting of an 80 member four-part choir of sopranos, altos, tenors and basses was initially founded by its Musical Director, Ms Niamh Ryan, almost two decades ago and donates the proceeds of all concerts to worthwhile local charities and other worthy causes, throughout North Co. Tipperary. The worthy cause, in this case, is the Thurles Cathedral Reroofing Fund, latter sadly having fallen into disrepair and is now leaking unto the ceiling plaster work, particularly during periods of high wind.
Included in the upcoming programme will be musical performances by special guests, “Music Generation Tipperary”, with vocal performances coming from Tipperary soloists, including tenors Willie O’Brien and Liam Brennan; tenor bass, Robbie Powell; alto, Edwina Morrissey; sopranos, Eithne Kennedy, Niamh Slattery and Maria McElgunn.
Expect to hear and enjoy the music from much loved musical shows, together with the songs of such artists as Simon and Garfunkel; Abba; Billy Joel; U2; Adele; Coldplay; Don McLean; Snow Patrol; Elbow; Lady Gaga and Toto, with a small sprinkling of well known and loved spiritual numbers.
This is an event for music lovers, young and old and not to be missed.
TICKETS: Tickets for the event are €25 each and are currently on sale at the Parish Offices in Nenagh, Holycross and Thurles and from Bookworm(latter situated in Liberty Square, Thurles).
Lyrics: County Fermanagh Irish musician and songwriter Mickey MacConnell. (Written in 1965) Vocals: Irish male folk group “Onóir”(Word translated from Irish to English meaning “Honor”).
Only Our Rivers Run Free.
When apples still grow in November, When blossoms still bloom on each tree, When leaves are still green in December, It’s then that our land will be free. I wander her hills and her valleys, It’s still through my sorrows I see, A land that have never known freedom, Still only her rivers run free. I drink to the death of her manhood, For the men who’d rather have died, Than to live in the cold chains of bondage, To bring back their rights where denied. Where are you now when we need you? What burns where the flame used to be? Are you gone like the snows of last winter? Will only our rivers run free. How sweet is the life for we’re crying, And how mellow the wine but we’re dry, How fragrant is the rose but it’s dying, How gentle the wind but it sighs. What good is in youth when it’s ageing? What joy is in eyes that can’t see? When there’s sorrow in sunshine and in flowers, And still only our rivers run free. And still only our rivers run free.
END
“To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” Above quote by South African anti-apartheid activist and politician the late Nelson Mandela, (1918 – 2013).
Today, April 18th 2025 is Good Friday, when according to the four Gospels, (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), in the New Testament of the Bible, Jesus Christ was arrested, tried and sentenced to death by crucifixion, latter an ancient form of execution in which a person was nailed or bound to a cross and left to die. Christians believe Jesus Christ died on such a cross, was buried in a tomb, and three days later rose from the dead.
The Old Rugged Cross.
Lyrics: American hymn composer and preacher, the late George Bennard(1873 – 1958). Vocals: American country music singer/songwriter Alan Jackson.
The Old Rugged Cross.
On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross, The emblem of suffering and shame, And I love that old cross where the dearest and best, For a world of lost sinners was slain. So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, (rugged cross). Till my trophies at last I lay down. I will cling to the old rugged cross, And exchange it some day for a crown. To that old rugged cross I will ever be true, It’s shame and reproach gladly bear. Then he’ll call me some day to my home far away, Where his glory forever I’ll share. So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, (rugged cross). Till my trophies at last I lay down. I will cling to the old rugged cross, And exchange it some day for a crown. I will cling to the old rugged cross, And exchange it some day for a crown.
Lyrics: Derry born Irish musician, songwriter and record producer, Phil Coulter. Vocals: Dublin born Irish folk singer and guitarist, Paddy Reilly.
The first three verses of the song hereunder reflect on the simple lifestyle Phil Coulter grew up with in Derry, while the final two deal a period known as ‘The Troubles’. He laments how his placid home-town had suddenly become a major military outpost, plagued with violence and death. The final verses of his song include a wish and a message of hope.
The Town I Loved So Well.
In my memory I will always see, The town that I have loved so well, Where our schools played ball by the gas-yard wall, And we laughed through the smoke and the smell. Going home in the rain, running up the dark lane, Past the jail and down behind the fountain. Those were happy days in so many, many ways, In the town I loved so well. In the early morning the shirt-factory horn, Called women from Creggan, the Moor and the Bog, While the men on the dole played a mother’s role, Fed the children and then walked the dog. And when times got rough there was just about enough, But they saw it through without complaining. For deep inside was a burning pride, For the town I loved so well.
There was music there in the Derry air, Like a language that we could all understand. I remember the day when I earned my first pay, When I played in the small pick-up band. There I spent my youth and to tell you the truth, I was sad to leave it all behind me. For I’d learned about life and I’d found me a wife, In the town I loved so well.
But when I’ve returned, how my eyes were burned, To see how a town could be brought to its knees, By the armoured cars and the bombed-out bars, And the gas that hangs on to every breeze. Now the army’s installed by that old gas-yard wall, And the damned barbed wire gets higher and higher. With their tanks and their guns, oh, my God, what have they done, To the town I loved so well.
Now the music’s gone but they carry on, For their spirit’s been bruised, never broken. Though they’ll not forget till their hearts are set, On tomorrow and peace once again. For what’s done is done and what’s won is won, And what’s lost is lost and gone forever. I can only pray for a bright brand new day, In the town I loved so well.
Lyrics: British folk singer-songwriter, folk song collector, labour activist and actor, the late James Henry Miller (1915 – 1989), better known by his stage name Ewan MacColl. Vocals: Dublin born Irish singer, folk musician and actor, the late Luke Kelly(1940 – 1984).
Come My Little Son.
Come me little son, And I will tell you what we’ll do. Undress yourself and get into bed, And the tale I’ll tell to you. It’s all about your Daddy, He’s a man you seldom see, For he’s had to roam, Far away from home, Far away from you and me.
[Chorus:] Remember laddie he’s still your Dad, Though he’s working far away. In the cold and heat all the hours of the week, On England’s motorway.
Now when you fall, And hurt yourself, And get a feeling bad, It isn’t any good to go running for your Dad. For the only time since you were born, He’s had to spend with you, He was out of a job, And he hadn’t a bob, He was signing on the brew.
[Repeat Chorus]
Sure we’d like your Daddy here, Yes, sure it would be fine, To have him working nearer home, And to see him all the time, But beggars can’t be choosers, And we have to bear our load, For we need the money your Daddy earns, A working on the road. Remember laddie he’s still your Dad, And he’ll soon be home to stay, For a week or two with me and you, When he’s built the motorway. END.
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