Growing up I memorized the words to all the old ballads I heard from our elders on Owey. It’s just that I could never sing them. As a youngster I’d listen almost in a trance when some of the old men – and one or two of the grandmothers – on the island would sing in the corner of someone’s house at night, surrounded by neighbours. Those wonderful ballads had been passed down from generation to generation. Even though I couldn’t chirp like a bird myself, I always appreciated a good singer when I heard one. I knew from the moment my cute little daughter Margaret began singing that she possessed something special. Today, they call it the ‘X Factor’, although nobody has been able to describe what that is. Whatever it may be, I was convinced that Margaret had it, and I encouraged her to sing at every opportunity, whether in the house or at concerts down in the local parish hall. I had retained a fine store of ballads in my head from long ago, and I taught Margaret the words to all of them.
What do You think about Even On Days When It Rains?
