Poem: © Elizabeth Shane
Music © 2003 Gordon Bok, BMI
Elizabeth Shane (1877-1951) was a poet from Donegal who knew her land and her waters well. This poem has the feel of a lot of the country-folk I've met in my visits to Ireland. "Turf" is peat, dug up in the bogs and dried in stacks, for fuel.
Gordon – Spanish guitar
Mary and Manus are working the turf together
Old they are, the two of them, old and grey
Over the bog the sea-wind sings in the heather
Night clouds lie on the hilltops, far away
They will have comfort now when the nights are colder
They will have turf, aye, plenty of turf to spare
Light she steps with the heavy creel on her shoulder
Load on load for the stack that is building there
Now there is a deeper note than the sea-wind's singing
Soft it comes, on the breath of the dying day
Down in the hollow the bell from the chapel is ringing
And Mary and Manus stand for a minute and pray
Soft and low on the air each long note lingers
Quietly bending their old, grey heads they stand
Making the holy sign with work-worn fingers
Wrapped in the sudden peace that has blessed the land
Is it the light of heaven on the wide sea breaking
Spreading its glory out like a golden rain
And with the light of the world in their eyes a-waking
Mary and Manus are working the turf again
The Angelus is recorded on the album In Concert