Today is the Autumn Equinox, and last night I had a dream the I had entered a Druidic Equinox Festival and submitted a competition entry, which I called the Equinox Sock. My entry was parceled up neatly; the parcel looked like a wrapped music disk, and I expected to be the winner.2
Well, dreams tend to work in riddles, so, when I woke I set about figuring the riddle out; and it was simple enough. Today I had an appointment with my Cardiologist. Yesterday, I visited my medical clinic to have my Covid and Flu injections, That day was very warm (unusually warm for September) and I had worn a short-sleeved shirt, which was very convenient for the injections, since there was no buttoning or rolling up of sleeves necessary. Today, however, was promised to be colder, so, naturally, I had to ask myself whether to wear a long-sleeved shirt instead, and, indeed, shoes or sandals.
Now, in the recent unusually warm weather, I had to constantly decide whether the sandals would be with or without socks, and that I reckon was the Equinox riddle of the socks.
Well, now that the Druids are in the picture, I reckon in tomorrow's music session, I should visit a song harping back to the ancient druids. "Seán Ó Duibhir an Gheanna," should meet the picture: In ancient times, as I had learned many years ago, druids would call the people at dawn to meet the Dawn Chorus, and sing a chant or chants welcoming the sun. (To the druids, the sun is a wonderful God, who, remarkably, lights the sky every single day, wet or dry, and only darkens it again at night).
One particular Sun-welcoming chant continued to be sung long after the druids had departed and right up to the Elizabethan period. At that time, Queen Elizabeth attempted to wipe out the entire Irish nation. Some cynic, made a parody of the song, to the effect that "Instead of dawn, I rise at midday; besides the birds singing, I hear the wailing of wounded animals; midges prick me and horseflies bite; I hear big guns, horsemen charging and the forests being chopped down; I want to escape to Galway and hire a boat to take me across the ocean." This song is "Seán Ó Duibhir." It was very popular at that time, and soon, the original song of joy was completely forgotten (unless artificial intelligence can resurrect it), and replaced by the parody.
Since I have just, more or less, translated the poem to English, why not go the whole hog now: as follows.
Sean O’Dwyer
As I rise in the morning,
The sun’s already shining;
I hear the wails of sorrow
Above the sweet bird song.
I feel the prick of midges
And the horseflies sharply biting;
I hear the roaring thunder
Of the great big guns.
The red fox on the headland,
The roar of horsemen charging,
And a woman by the wayside
Wails “My geese are gone.”
Now the forests, they are felling;
People flee from Ireland,
And Sean O’Dwyer, the huntsman,
Alas, your day is done.
I find it so distressing
To lose those trees for shelter.
The black north wind’s extending
And death presents to all.
My playful dog is tied up,
And not allowed to caper;
He would keep the children laughing
And joyful all day long.
The fox upon the headland
Revels in the slaughter;
He’ll dash through the heather
Until all time is done.
If I could be escaping
The controlling people,
I would sell all my possessions
For a boat to cross the foam.
