OPINION (AN COLÚN): Evenings of cool lager and song singing

I AM REGULARLY to be found tinkling away on my piano and rummaging through my hundreds of music scores looking for some tune or other.
During a recent rummaging I came across a battered yellow copy of the “Kevin Mayhew Community Song Book” lying at the bottom of dozens of scores. It had been years since I last opened it.
Holding the book in my hand the memories came flooding back. In July 2001 I joined 15 other likeminded souls for a two week walking holiday on the island of Corsica. Each day entailed several hours hiking on demanding, beautiful trails beneath the hot mediterranean sun; followed by evenings of cool, refreshing lager and singsongs. There were several people in the group who enjoyed singing, and my Mayhew Song Book was a big hit with them.
One evening we were staying at a hotel high in the mountains. It was late, about 11 o'clock, and we were still belting out the songs, enjoying the great buzz of the drink and the camaraderie and the singing. We were seated on the hotel's verandah, the balconies of the guest rooms above us. I heard someone shout above us. I didn't catch what they said. We carried on singing. A few moments later there was more angry shouting from above. We carried on singing. The next thing, a large bucket of water was poured down on top of us from the angry resident above! We got the message and retired for the evening.
The Mayhew book was the perfect book for us. It contained a very democratic choice of songs, appealing to many different tastes. Each song had been super famous for donkeys years, had a great melody, often great words. Each song was ideal for unison singing. One of them, “Amazing Grace”, we sang every evening. Written by John Newton in the 18th Century the power of the words lies in their honesty. Newton admits that he was a “wretch.” His experiences in life and his actions in life had brought him down to rock bottom. He was depressed, perhaps suicidal. While we may not suffer from very deep depression or suicidal ideation, we have all felt at times a little bit of Newton's misery (we wouldn't be human if we hadn't); we can sympathise with that word “wretch”. We mightn't have been as big a sinner as Newton was but we have all been buffeted around by life. And while languishing there in our misery, many of us have suddenly felt swelling up in our bodies a powerful sensation of health, of resilience and hope - “I once was lost, but now I'm found.”
Newton was profoundly lost, more deeply lost than many of us will ever be. A ship's captain and slave trader, he dealt in the misery of transporting slaves. In 1748, during his return voyage to England aboard the ship Greyhound, he experienced a spiritual conversion. He awoke to find the ship caught in a severe storm off the coast of Ireland, near Donegal, and about to sink. Newton began praying for God's mercy, after which the storm began to die down. After four weeks at sea the Greyhound made it to port in Lough Swilly, Ireland. This experience marked the beginning of his conversion to Christianity. In 1788 he published a powerful abolitionist pamphlet called “Thoughts upon the Slave Trade”, which makes for harrowing reading.
Another tune which was popular during our Corsican holiday was the traditional English Folk melody, “Begone, Dull Care” which has fabulous words and conjures up the beautiful image of a contented wedded relationship: “Begone, dull care, I prithee begone from me, begone dull care, you and I shall never agree. Long time hast thou been tarrying here, and fain thou wouldst me kill, but i' faith dull care, thou never shall have thy will. Too much care will make a young man turn grey and too much care will turn an old man to clay. My wife shall dance and I will sing, so merrily pass the day, for I hold it one of the wisest things to drive dull care away.” (I love the sentiment of the poet never being in agreement with worry, anxiety and depression).
Many of the happiest moments in my life have centred around singsongs. In university, in England, three decades ago, I was on the Rugby team and after every Saturday game we'd drink lots of beer and belt out lots of tunes. When I came back to Ireland after, I tried to replicate the university experience and I sought out groups and activities where this might happen. I loved horseriding and I was happy to discover that many horseriders also enjoyed a few melodies. For many years I'd regularly go out for a few hours horse trekking, to be followed by beer and tunes. Some evenings there was a lot of beer and tunes (!) and occasionally I'd wake up the next morning, on top of my bed sheets, still in my tweed jacket, jodhpurs and leather boots.
I travelled abroad many times for famous walking treks in far-flung places. The Irish groups I trekked with were fantastic fun. Social singing, thankfully, is still a big part of our culture in Ireland. Abroad, we were often the life and soul of the party. “Whiskey in the Jar” was a big favourite - “Musha ring dum a doo dum da Whack fol de daddy o Whack fol de daddy o There's whiskey in the jar.” Other favourites (performed high in the mountains of places like Peru, Nepal, Argentina) were “Dirty Old Town”, “Molly Malone”, “The Fields of Athenry” and “A Jug of Punch” - “Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was The Jug of Punch."