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Traditional from Ireland

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On Raglan Road

On Raglan Road on an Autumn Day,
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I may 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.
On Grafton Street in November,
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worst of passions pledged.
The Queen of Hearts still baking tarts
And I not making hay,
Well I loved too much; by such and such
Is happiness thrown away.
I gave her the gifts of the mind.
I gave her the secret sign
That's known to all the artists who have
Known true Gods of Sound and Time.
With word and tint I did not stint.
I gave her reams of poems to say
With her own dark hair and her own name there
Like the clouds over fields of May.
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet,
I see her walking now away from me,
So hurriedly. My reason must allow,
For I have wooed, not as I should
A creature made of clay.
When the angel woos the clay, he'll lose
His wings at the dawn of the day.

credits

from Nomadic Book of Folk Songs, released July 10, 2019
Poem: Patrick Kavanagh
Musical adaptation: Luke Kelly
Voice and Guitar: Nelson Poblete
Concertina: RiverPath

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Nelson Poblete France

Nelson Poblete, an author, composer, and performer, has cultural roots in Chilean, Catalan, and British backgrounds. He spent much of his career in Barcelona, winning awards at festivals. He lived in Manchester, playing Irish music in pubs, and performed across Europe. He now resides in Brittany, France. ... more

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