In Like a Cliche

Oh Joy. It's March. In my world that's where all the Irish cliches, especially the music ones, come out of the woodwork. I've a deep joy in the traditional music, and in some of the contemporary performers who come out of the folk tradition who write splendid new songs. One of my favorites is Robbie O' Connell. For the only peripherally aware who ask "whozat?" saying he's the Clancy Brothers' nephew usually suffices. I fell in love with his singing decades ago when he performed in a trio with Mick Maloney and Jimmy Keane. In those years I was actively involved in promoting folk music concerts, and Celtic-flavored artists in particular. For a few years I was behind a "NO Danny Boy and NO Green Beer" concert on St. Patrick's Day, featuring traditional performers.

To perhaps explain why I get cranky about the music one hears in March, I offer you, gentle reader, the lyrics to one of Robbie's songs:

You're Not Irish

When first I came to the USA with my guitar in hand
I was told that I could get a job
singing songs from Ireland
So I headed up to Boston,
I was sure to be alright
But the very first night I got on the stage,
I was in for a big surprise

they said;
(Chorus) You're not Irish you can't be Irish
you don't know Danny Boy
Or Toora loora loola, or even Irish Eyes
You've got the hell of a nerve to say
you came from Ireland
so cut out all the nonsense
and sing Mcnamaras Band

To tell the truth I got quite a shock
and I didn't know what to say
So I sang a song in Gaelic
I thought that might win the day
But they looked at me suspiciously
and I didn't know what was wrong
The all of a sudden they started to shout
now sing a real Irish song
(Chorus)

The next day I was on my way for Chicago I was bound
I was ready to give it another try
and not let it get me down
From the stage they looked quite friendly,
but I hardly sung one word
When a voice called out from the back of the room,
and what do you think I heard? (Chorus)

Now I've traveled all around the country,
but its always been the same
From LA to Philadelphia and from Washington to Maine
But sometimes now I wonder if its a secret society
And it doesn't matter wherever I go
they'll be waiting there for me,

saying;
You're not Irish you can't be Irish
you don't know Danny Boy
Or Toora loora loora or even Irish eyes
You've got a hell of a nerve to say
you came from Ireland
So cut out all the nonsense and sing McNamara's band