More songs by Lankum
More songs by Grian Chatten
Description
Associated Performer: Lankum with Grian Chatten
Associated Performer: Lankum
Uilleann Pipes, Piano, Hurdy- Gurdy, Percussion, Lyricist, Composer: Ian Lynch
Vocal, Associated Performer: Grian Chatten
Lead Vocalist, Harmonium, Mellotron, Composer, Lyricist, Vocal: Radie Peat
Composer, Vocal, Guitar, Percussion, Lyricist: Darragh Lynch
Vocal, Viola, Percussion, Violin, Composer, Lyricist: Cormac Dermody
Percussion: Eleanor Mylar
Mixing Engineer, Bells, Producer: Antony Genn
Lyricist, Composer, Producer: John 'Spud' Murphy
Producer, Mixing Engineer: Martin Slattery
Mixing Engineer, Engineer: Drew Dungate Smith
Additional Engineer: Rudi Thompson
Recording Engineer: John Barrett
Lyrics and translation
Original
Sharp is the wind
Cold is the rain
Harsh is the livelong day
Upon the wide open plain
By Donnelly's hollow
Under sod, gorse, and furze
There lies the young wren, oh
By the saints, she was cursed
The wren is a small bird
How pretty she sings
She bested the eagle
When she hid in its wings
With sticks and with stones
All among the small mounds
They come from all over
To hunt the wren on the wide open ground
There are birds of the earth
And beasts of the field
By spite and by fury
Are people revealed
Attacked in the village
Spat on in town
They come from all over
To hunt the wren on the wide open ground
The wren is a small bird
Though blamed for much woe
Her form is derided
Wherever she goes
With cold, want, and whiskey
She soon is run down
Her body paraded
On a staff through the town
A rag for her ceiling
The sod was her floor
She chose the cold open plain o'er
The dark workhouse door
With two broken wings
And feathers so brown
They come from all over
To hunt the wren on the wide open ground
English translation
Sharp is the wind
Cold is the rain
Harsh is the livelong day
Upon the wide open plain
By Donnelly's hollow
Under sod, gorse, and furze
There lies the young wren, oh
By the saints, she was cursed
The wren is a small bird
How pretty she sings
She bested the eagle
When she hid in its wings
With sticks and with stones
All among the small mounds
They come from all over
To hunt the wren on the wide open ground
There are birds of the earth
And beasts of the field
By spite and by fury
Are people revealed
Attacked in the village
Spat on in town
They come from all over
To hunt the wren on the wide open ground
The wren is a small bird
Though blamed for much woe
Her form is derided
Wherever she goes
With cold, want, and whiskey
She soon is run down
Her body paraded
On a staff through the town
A rag for her ceiling
The sod was her floor
She chose the cold open plain o'er
The dark workhouse door
With two broken wings
And feathers so brown
They come from all over
To hunt the wren on the wide open ground