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 the 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 body laid out on the table!
And 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 was one situation I'd not met before Should I run for highway or tap on the door? Well, a 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 tea I’m supplied (you will, you will) Just keeping my peace, and my eye to the side On my host, the most recent cadaver
Then 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 For your man sits bolt upright and madly does stare And I’m practically killed with the terror
For 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
He said I was only pretending to croak But it wasn’t a game, no it wasn’t a joke For 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 then she comes back with some lad from the farm A shepherd so sheepish, that clings to her arm And she says they must go to the bed to get warm And I'm shocked and dismayed by their badness
The old man jumps up with terrible roar And foresaking 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!
For 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
Recorded on Mixed Moss with help from Tom Napper | ||