Lisa O’Neill’s latest album All Of This Is Chance.
The first lines are taken from Patrick Kavanagh’s 1942 poem The Great Hunger
“Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill.”
Watch ’em, watch ’em, watch ’em
That man on the hill
Whose spirit is a wet sack flapping about the knees of time.

Old Note

The wind whistled you in behind the springtime
Float old note new among my mind
You hold the note, the note just moves to move man
Let go of the note and so move everything
I can't come to quantify the feeling
I was walking home half in the dreaming
The things that I was thinking I was singing
The wind whistled you in behind the springing

A star ran rings around a star before me
And spun and swooped and sank and rocked beneath me
And mirrored what I've carried since I met me
And shot me back into the ground below me
And there I met another note long buried
And sat upon it's shoulders was a memory
I hum but see above me is gone so noisy
I almost think I do not recognise me

Feathered friend, dig up and resurrect me
I long to live among the song of birdies
A lawless league of lonesome, lonesome beauty
Skies and skies and skies above duty

The wind whistled you in behind the springtime
Float old note new among my mind
You hold the note, the note just moves to move man
Let go of the note and so move everything

I can't come to quantify the feeling
I was walking home half in the dreaming
The things that I was thinking I was singing
The wind whistled you in behind the springing