DEAD MEN BEAR NO WITNESS (Bliss)

This story was told to the wonderful Irish writer John Millington Synge, author of "The Playboy of the Western World" by an ancient storyteller called Pat Dirane, on Inishmaan, in about 1900. He made it into a play called The Shadow of The Glen. The three versions; story, play and song, all have slightly different endings.

Inishmaan is better known these days as 'Craggy Island' and listeners may like to enhance the comedic value of this song by imagining this cast - in order of appearance: Father Ted, Mrs Doyle, Father Jack and Father Dougal!

I was hungry and cold, I was tired and foot-sore

For I'd been a-travelling late o’ the moor

When a welcoming light in the distance I saw

And thought maybe shelter till morning

So I trod through bog till a cottage I spied

And thinking to check there'd be welcome inside

My eye to a chink in the shutter applied

And the darkness it gave me no warning

For there by the fire sat a lady so fair

With the bloom on her cheek, and her long raven hair

As into the embers forlorn she did stare

I thought I’ll make her smile if I’m able

And then to the shadows, beyond, at the side

My eyes grew accustomed and there I espied

The reason she stared in the fire and sighed

There’s a buds laid out on the table

Dead men bear no witness

Ghosts no tales can tell

Tis a fortunate thing they can’t evidence bring

Or we’d all be damned to hell

we’d all be damned to hell

This one situation I'd not met before

Should I run for highway or tap on the door?

Well corpse can hurt nobody, that much is sure

And maybe some company she’d favour

So I rapped on the wood, and she opened it wide

And soon with fine supper and pipe I’m supplied

Keeping my peace and my eye to the side

On my host the most recent cadaver

She said do you mind if I leave for a spell?

I must run to my neighbours for them I must tell

Of the sad situation that here has befell

Will you watch while I go on my errand?

And soon as she’s stepped in the chilly night air

A sudden development fills me with fear

Your man sits bolt up and at me does stare

And I’m practically killed with the terror

He said I was only pretending to croak

But it wasn’t a game no it wasn’t a joke

I’m thinking my woman her vows she has broke

And a terrible anger is stirring

So pass me my blackthorn I’ll need it close by

And then still as stone on this table I’ll lie

But it’s you I’ll belabour if you even try

To warn her of what is occurring

And when she comes back with a lad from the farm

A shepherd all sheepish that clings to her arm

And says they must go to the bed to get warm

I am shocked and dismayed by their badness

Your man he leaps up with deafening roar

Forgetting my coat I am straight out the door

For I'd rather perish of cold on the moor

Than be party to any more madness!

Recorded on Mixed Moss with help from Tom Napper