09 April 2013

Cork and Jimmy Mac

This time, we bypassed Cork on the brand new ring road with the tunnel and all. And yet we knew without saying that somewhere enclosed by the tangle of roundabouts and four-lane roads lies this messy charming city where so much happened for us, where S was born, when work and money was scarce in a time full of energy and ideas and ideals.
A lot of time was spent organising benefits for campaigns, an endless string of concerts, films, readings in smelly pubs, dance halls, community centers. We danced against nuclear power, for the women of Greenham Common, home birth, anti-apartheid, Nicaragua, gays and lesbians, AIDS awareness, striking miners, free schools, you name it. And often, Jimmy Mac was there with his guitar, a quiet man who could bring a rowdy crowd down to a hush. He leaves it to others to record his songs. Mary Black and Christy Moore.

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for this today. Mary Black is a favorite of mine, but I didn't know of Jimmy Mac and his guitar:

    If your life is a rough bed of brambles and nails
    And your spirit's a slave to man's whips and man's jails
    Where you thirst and you hunger for justice and right
    Then your heart is a pure flame of man's constant night
    In your eyes faint as the singing of a lark
    That somehow this black night
    Feels warmer for the spark
    Warmer for the spark
    To hold us 'til the day when fear will lose its grip
    And heaven has its way
    And heaven has its way
    When all will harmonise
    And know what's in our hearts
    The dream will realize

    I appreciate seeing Ireland through your eyes.