It’s great how things come together sometimes. When a combination of planning plus serendipity collides to make something really *work*, it’s deeply gratifying. That’s how Lá Bealtaine was this year.
First in the new house. It is my habit most years to make a flower crown in May Day colours (yellow and white) for the day itself and then dry it out and hang it on my wall somewhere. The number of crowns grows as the years pass. Intentionally, however, I did not bring any of the flower crowns from the old apartment into the new house. So this year, the first crown has now officially been made, used in art, used in collective spellwork, and is drying in preparation to take it’s place on a fresh new wall.
That “Joy of the Future” card from the Heart of the Faeries Oracle is proving HILARIOUSLY CHALLENGING!!! Da fuq!?
I have been going through a really…interesting… time lately with old baggage and insecurity. It’s a good thing I’m a witch who knows how to eat their old skins. I’ve been reading the cards (and asking friends) repeated questions over and over, from different angles… really trying to go the distance with a few snags in the ball of twine that is my life. Pull on one thing, find it loops back to a shadow wiggling behind you, journal about it, cry about it (a LOT), feel it begin to process, rinse, repeat. I am aware that having the good fortune to finally feel safe in my living environment has provided the perfect setting for this kind of work – it’s in the safety and quiet that you finally realise… it’s just you now, bitch. Do you even KNOW how to be happy!?
The answer is yes…or more accurately, that I can learn. If there’s one thing I KNOW I’m good at, it’s learning…and beginning to learn… and beginning to begin.
So May Day. Full moon. Time to let some shit go. Also the first day of my period such as it exists. Other than emotional dysregulation (grrrreat), my chief symptom is swelling… waxing full and round just like the fucking moon. Good for shadow work though. And I guess it means I’m sloughing more than just metaphors…
I went a bit quiet in the days preceding. Journaling, reading cards, squirming at the answers, and resting. Then May Day came and despite the swelling, I wore all cream and white. All handmade. Two petticoats with lace trim. A handmade corded bust support based on the top half of the famous Symington “Pretty Housemaid” pattern. A corset cover inspired camisole made from the same wide lace trim that’s gathered into the hem of one of my petticoats. I had intentionally left my hair unwashed (but *not* uncleaned or untended) for over a month (May Day was day 35) and my roots were growing in like crazy (half an inch in a single month! weee!!!). Then I attended Mixtress Rae’s radio show to dance with my shadows and expel evil. I took part in a planned collective spell she lead during the show – 5 people working the spell including me, I think… across 3 continents. She followed up the spell with Kate Bush’s “Get Out of My House” which was very cathartic and effective.
I kid you not, that Faeries Oracle card is “A Collective of Pixies” which was not only perfect for the show, for dancing, and for May Day but ALSO for the precise thing I’ve been asking the cards over and over again. For those of you who own the deck, go read the guid book entry for that card!!!
I took all of this very seriously (amidst the joy of dancing and so on). I mulled my readings over and did follow up readings through the course of the weekend. I also finally fully washed and re-henna’d my hair. I haven’t used shampoo or conditioner in 3 years… or anything soap-like on my hair in 2.5 years… what I use varies a little but it’s mainly a hand-prepared clay mixture followed by a diluted vinegar wash about once a month at the moment. I like that I have to pay attention to it. I followed this up with some ‘home-spa’ style care. It was good. Medicinal. Needed.
“One morning, one morning, one morning in May, I saw a young lady all wrapped in white linen. All wrapped in white linen and cold as the clay.”
I’m not done processing things, of course. Who is? Ever? But this is ultimately what witchcraft is about for me… I’m grateful to have it. None of it’s my first rodeo but *that* feels pretty fucking cool!
Whoever or whatever reads this blog with any regularity may remember that last year I conceieved of a musical project called “The Devil Makes Three”…
I designed it along the lines of Tom Waits’ “Orphans” trilogy – each volume linking together to create a larger picture whilst also functioning as a standalone album. I had a very clear idea of what I wanted to say with Vols. 2 and 3 from a creative standpoint. Their soundscapes were different from each other but clearly defined and I felt that they complimented each other nicely. If one listened to them in numeric order they formed a progression of musical style that said (to me) outward hunter/prey to inward haunting/personal.
The problem was that Vol. 1 was 1) only vaguely defined in terms of what I wanted to say creatively, 2) very literal in it’s interpretation of that creative goal, and 3) articulated through the tastes of others rather than a better representation of my taste… and as such also didn’t fit stylisticly into the broader picture. It provided no real conceptual or narrative development in the project as a whole and, in my mind, made it impossible for any (totally fictional would-be listener) to *want* to progress to the others.
I also realised that the three volume set was totally lacking in metal and metal adjacent genres… which was ridiculous as I listen to mostly metal/shoegaze/gothic psych doom rock nightmare-fuel-cruel-harpy-demonic-witch-magical-shapeshifter-shit by faaaarrrrrrr the most in my life!*
Having finally acquired a new (to me) computer, I can now post the finished result. I’m actually really proud of it!
I may do more proper liner notes for each disc in the future because I have really built in a LOT of stuff that I’d like to document… Imagine, if you will, that a witch can live and tell you stories by wearing music as a kind of sonic glamour. That.
But for now, Vol. 1 is called “The Words They Hear”.
If you were to ask,"What is it like to be a born a changeling witch?", or, "What was it like to be a child stuffed to the brim with dark magick?", or, "What does Badb/Nemain sound like to those with an ear to hear them?" ...you may consider this mix to be *an* answer.
In keeping with the rest of the project, there are 15 tracks on the album. There is some chronological progression but this is not an obligatory interpretation. Explicit mention of the Devil themself appears in the tracklisting – in this case you will note that I have featured Gil Scott-Heron’s genius track “Me and the Devil” …which then makes a distinctly more femme-gendered appearance in a Soap&Skin cover on Vol 2.
I would also like to point out the explicit recurring celestial rise/fall/rise theme on this volume… Also “Orion” is an explicit name I have called a certain thing in my life since I was a …teenager? That’s the first time it shows up in my poetry at any rate. But enough concept teasers, here’s the playlist:
Here are links to Vol 2. “The Stories They Tell” and Vol. 3 “The Tongues They Hold” for anyone interested in listening to the rest. As I said, I’ll likely write about each mix in their own dedicated blog post at some point. For now, I think it’s better that any would-be listener just develops their own relationship to the compilations but…
If Vol 1. is Badb/Nemain... Vol 2. could be considered Macha and... Vol 3. Anand.
Though of course, they’re all three all three all of the time.
~ Saoirse.
PS. At some point I also want to draw detailed and specific cover art for each one… because I have nooooo chiiiiiiiiill!
*There are some exceptions of note – one example in this mix is that I don’t listen to The Yagas as a band… but I do like “The Crying Room” as a track.
So I’m reworking the first disc of my “You and Me and the Devil Makes Three” mix-set to be less of a randomized selection of the others’ tastes and, instead, more in line with mine… and focusing on what it is to be a changeling (child) witch. It reminded me that I wanted to post a few videos (three, in fact) that capture what my dreams/nightmares were like as a little kid. While no single of one of these videos is an exact replica, taken as a group and sort of …meshed together… you get a near-perfect representation of what they look(ed) like.
Right down to painted faces, labyrinthine city structures and old parking garages, strange dingy forgotten tenement buildings, grown-up-children, poverty, splitting wounds, blood, and disease… and a lot of very sad lonely people crying for things I couldn’t even give myself.
The earliest and most ‘proto-typical’ of these dreams that I can remember was from when I was six. Many of them are recurring. Many show up in my poetry (of which I have included some examples in this post). And they are, of course, on-going.
… When the Morrígan makes sense to you, I guess it’s because REASONS. 😉
The medieval clothes, sad smiles, strange long wooden hallways with dusty floors… so real.
I know it’s supposed to be tense by cinematic design but I literally can’t watch this one without every muscle clamping in my body. So fucking scary! And good!
This one reminds me of a figure I encountered in ‘dreams’ inspired by the song “Golden Slumbers” which used to frighten the fuck out of me as a kid… A strange painted man in a suit, surrounded by other theatrical faces fading into the night on wide & shallow concrete steps under a single street lamp telling me “Once there was a way to get back home…”
Do with all that what you will… it makes for great creative fodder.
The first among other things, makes reference to the dragon-dreams in Laurence Yep’s work “Dragonwings”… the mental image of sore shoulders after intense dreams had a huge impact on me as a kid. The other two are “simply” more narrative descriptions of specific dreams.
~ Saoirse.
PS. The featured image on this post is a photo of me that is no less unsettling in it’s original form… Sweet dreams, witchy children 😛
So, I’m in the middle of a massive change right now and, at the same time, I have also recently done myself the (mixed) favour of getting two full days of colour-work done for a tattoo that covers almost a quarter of my body…
Suffice it to say I’m hecking tired and I’m gonna stay that way for a bit and I did it to myself and that’s what really hurts >_<.
To make up for the lack of posts – but *not* the lack of creativity and general witchery – this post essentially contains a photo dump of (some) recent projects and artistic goings on amidst ::wooooooo:: big change ::woooooooo:: ^_^
Recent shots of my desk – homemade beeswax candles, card readings, and musical practice. You may recognise the first image as the thumbnail for my most recent video post. Terribly cringey and an algorithmic shot in the foot… sorrynotsorry!Before and after mending a rip in my skirt (not pictured is the black cotton backing I incorporated into the stitching) & some homemade earrings (paper layers, glue, varnish; real wishbones, cleaned and varnished; paper mache clay, gold paint, varnish.)Recent shots of glamour altar (including perfumes, paper mache clay horns, and ultraviolet pigments) & a shot of the colours my tattoo artist was mixing and blending directly onto my skin!Adventures in making my own nail polish colours! Ultraviolet green (in various layer combinations)… I called it “Poison Apple” but my partner wants to call it either “Mutant Ninja Ooze” or “Aggressively Green”… thoughts?Random OOTD shots of the general vibe I’ve beeen going for these days! Complete with Evenstar & glow in the dark bugs and sex dice! ^_^
That’s all for now folks. Have fun storming the castle!!!
Love poems are undoubtedly the hardest for me to write. I have composed only a handful that I consider successful in my life time. Here are three of those, all about the same person ^_^ You may note the ‘marriage’ of medieval mysticism and Pagan Otherworlds.
Poetry is such a meandering thing. I can’t say I’m the sort who works on the art of writing poetry or who reads widely or consistently to better acquaint myself with the source material… at least, I don’t do this with the kind of structure or consistency that makes sense to declare anywhere on the internet! But I care very intensely about developing a style, voice, and a sensory reality.
My sister writes BEAUTIFUL poetry that is much like her dreams – often in the style of epic narrative. With a temporal flow and an arc of completion. She once pointed out that my poetry evokes vignettes of mood and sensory experience. A window into a brief mystical moment. This is incidentally also very much like my dreams (albeit with the added potential for positivity since my dreams are almost exclusively terrible & terrifying… horrific, gothic, sublime.)
I am firmly of the view that poetry should be read aloud. At least, MINE should be… with breaks (or ‘rests’?) only as dictated by punctuation, rather than (GASP! HORROR!) at the end of every line. If you take into consideration that much of what I’ve written has included direct musical reference (in addition to those that can already be achieved through metre and so on), you may see that I *try* to extend the audio-visual to include music and dance.
Thus, in the poem “Untitled (Hazel for a Boy)” the hazel in the palm is a reference to the writings of Julian of Norwich on the nature of love… and I have layered this with a common trad descriptor of young beloveds: (nut) brown boy/girl. One long standing favourite of mine is “Ille Dhuinn, S’ Toigh Leam Thu”
The Scottish Gaelic lyrics are as follows:
’Ille dhuinn, ’s toigh leam thu, ’S toigh leam fhìn thu, laochain; Mas toigh leat mi, is toigh leam thu ‑ ’S gur òg a thug mi gaol dhut.
Dh’fhalbh mi mar a b’ àbhaist dhomh Air sàillibh coimhead chaorach ‑ ’S beag a bha dhem fhor orra, ’S mo leannan air a’ chaolas.
Nuair dhìrich mi suas Criongrabhal, ’S e m’ inntinn nach robh aotrom ‑ Bha ’m bàta mach gu Saighdeanais, ’S i toidhdidh fo cuid aodaich.
’S ann a their mo phàrantan Gur tàmailt leotha m’ fhaoineas ‑ Gum faighinn fear na b’ fheàrr na thu Le bàtaichean ’s le birlinn.
Ged gheibhinn fear na b’ fheàrr na thu Le bàtaichean ’s le birlinn, Gum b’ fheàrr leam fhìn an gille donn Is e gun bhonn dhen t‑saoghal.
Ged gheall mi dhut gun leanainn thu ’S gun dealaichinn ri mo dhaoine, Cha d’ rachainn dha Na Hearadh leat Air cheannachd air an t‑saoghal.
Ged a bhithinn pòsta riut Is còir agam air d’ fhaotainn, Cha b’ fhada bhithinn beò agad ’S an Dòmhnallach às m’ aonais.
In English:
Brown-haired lad, I’m fond of you, I’m really fond of you, boy; If you’re fond of me, I’m fond of you- I’ve loved you since I was young.
I set off as usual to look for the sheep but scant attention gave I to them, knowing my beloved was in the strait.
When I climbed Criongrabhal, my spirits were low – the ship, with well-trimmed sails, was out near Saighdeanais.
My parents say that my foolishness is a source of shame to them – that I could attract a better man than you, an owner of ships and galleys.
Though I could have a better man than you, an owner of ships and galleys, I would much prefer the brown-haired lad though he hadn’t a penny in the world.
Though I promised you I’d follow you and part company from my people, nothing in the world could induce me to go to Harris.
I wouldn’t survive long if married to you, while pining for MacDonald.
Note that in Scottish Gaelic as well as in Irish the manner of describing hair colour is to pair the colour with the type of person directly, e.g. brown boy. The translation above opts for the “brown-haired” descriptor to make it clearer in English.
There are many other examples of songs that make reference to a nut-brown colour (many of which are super cringe tourist favourites here in Ireland) but this is the one that I have most often in mind due to it’s melancholy sound and its emphasis on the difficulties of separation and limited finances. Having formed and kept a bond across the Atlantic … between worlds, over nine waves, across time and space… lends itself quite well to the shared lore of our relationship. Indeed, this kind of poetic layering also lends itself to the spellbound witchy otherworldly quality of being fascinated and devoted to any human person other than myself. <3
Another such colour symbol, of course, is the azure blue… the medieval link with lapiz lazuli and text illuminations. Or the blue-grey/blue green (glás!) of the sea. The list goes ever on and on.
To my chosen person: “I have walked the world to find you. I’ve worn out the soles of three pairs of iron shoes and my hair is no longer red. But I come to claim you…”*
~ Saoirse.
*From “Hans, My Hedgehog” in Jim Henson’s The Storyteller
So we’re officially entering summer-like weather here in Ireland which, of course, means I’m losing my will to think. I have, however, been steadily working away on various creative projects the past few months and my aim is to continue this emphasis on gradual progress. It’s causing an interesting layering of imagery in my projects as well which, ideally, will lend itself to something like stylistic and symbolic cohesion…
The idea for my latest video had it’s origins in a conversation with a friend. We were talking about the impact (over the years) of specific moments where you’re shown what you really aren’t to someone else… human, in this case. I brought up Cake’s “Friend is a Four Letter Word” being pointedly played at me as an example to which she replied “UGH what girl of a certain age HASN’T had that song used at them!?”
To which I would like to add, I’m sure there are a lot of people who used that song either at others or even at *themselves* to absorb or express something toxic that so many of us have internalised.
I myself don’t have the strongest bond to the “she/her” social identity. I have explained this in part in the aforementioned blog post. I don’t spend time calling myself a ‘girl’ or ‘woman’ in my head. That’s something that other people call me… usually the rudest people I know, too. I am less and less willing to have “she/her” plastered everywhere and have been opting instead for “she/they”… and the magical and artistic process behind this video (and other projects) has helped me to draw a crucial line in my life more generally: I can no longer sustain connections with people who see me as a ‘girl’ before they see me as a person.
Good conversations with good friends inspire so much don’t they!?
Thus, rather belatedly, it struck me that this was a bigger picture issue… but in my case this needless dichotomy that as a femme-ish person I may *either* feel human *or* sexual but not both in a patriarchal system has taken on this rage infused haunting quality. Of course, we see this theme all throughout demonic witchcraft tropes and mythic narratives and it’s not accidental at all that the goddess under whose auspice I live is imbued with sexual identity and expression… in a shapeshifting and often horror-based way!
In my opinion sexuality in general is a deeply fluid & poetic thing. It is beyond gender, of course, because gender is non-binary and sexual preferences and identity isn’t really map-able. It’s much like magic. Felt, learned, practiced, explored, poured out, drunk in, sung, quietly spoken… everything everywhere and nothing nowhere all at once. In the mind and/or in the body as you please. Mythicly real and woven from autonomy, agency, and consent.
People don’t get to hear nearly often enough how sensually beautiful they are… because humans really can be like living walking poetry. Embodiments of sacred verse! Yet time and space are wasted in saying you are either ‘friend’ to me or ‘something more’!? What is “more” in this scenario!? I was a mystical sexual being before I met almost everyone I know now (as well as certain people I knew *back then*) and I continue to be when people leave my life story. Yet somehow I could still read a book, climb a mountain, perform in concert halls across cities and countries, have thoughts and opinions all my own about whatever I wish… and appreciate the sensory, sensual, and sexual beauty of my friends regardless of gender.
One thing I have been doing for these projects is constructing “what’s playing in the studio” mixes. I made three that function as a whole unit (not unlike Tom Waits’ “Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers, & Bastards” trinity) but that can also be listened to individually. Each one has a loose narrative structure on its own but as a group of three albums they also progress from the more collective/general (and femme)* to the more vulnerable/authentic/personal.
*[Edit February 2026 – dissatisfaction with the lack of direction and gendered nature of the first playlist has led me to re-do it to represent the idea of cosmically ‘heard’ words & magical power… making all three volumes subjective and biographical, “auto-” or otherwise. The new thematic progression might be said to be Volume 1 – (Changeling) Words/Volume 2 – (Murder) Stories/Volume 3 – (Nonverbal) Tongues…]
I made the second ‘disc’ first and it’s the one that fed most directly into the video above.
Each one features 15 tracks… see what I did there, tarot-nerds? ^_^ They’re mostly what they say on the tin except for three things: 1) it is worth bearing in mind the unreliable narrator as well as the idea of incompatible yet simultaneous truths; 2) these are not necessarily a faithful representation of *my* taste (although of course, they are born from the limitations of my exposure***); and 3) the third album is my answer to the question “what would I play if I let myself really say what I wanted to say musically?” Note, there are almost no lyrics or words on it at all.
Unfortunately, I can only make these available through youtube at the moment because the third album has two tracks I had to alter slightly to allow for a more natural fade into the next track. If anyone knows a good, free, freely available, and less-ad-ridden way to host these let me know!
Lastly, I’ll give you a visual glimpse of one of my other recent projects completed as part of this on-going process:
“Now where the Devil is that devil of mine?” – Jim Henson’s The Storyteller, “The Soldier and Death”
I made myself earrings inspired by the Devil’s foot in Jim Henson’s the Storyteller! You can barely tell, but I am wearing them in certain shots in the video (and in the header image for this post!) The screencaps above are taken from ‘the’ tube but I *DO* own a copy of the DVD series with John Hurt (I don’t have the Greek myths with Michael Gambon and have actually never watched them either.) These are paper mache clay, acrylic paint, and varnished to make them water proof etc.
Ok that’s all for now. Bear in mind, this is all a work in progress and likely poorly expressed! Back to feeling demotivated in the gathering heat.
~ Saoirse.
*** For example, Laura Marling features on the second album twice but I have REAL issues with her worldview as an artist. She’s made some good music in the past, that is all.
Get ready for a spat of unstructured posts. As I have said over on my youtube channel, I’m going to prioritise posting less formalised content for a little while. Honestly, everything about my online presence should be approached like that anwyay so this shouldn’t present much difficulty!
Recently, I have been talking to various people in my life about what we expect and value out of friendship (short and long term). We’ve been talking about aging, about appearances, about performance and body horror, and about external pressures and standards… narratives around expectations and control… and just how many people want to see themselves mirrored in others to the point of trying to force others to reflect what they want to see about themselves. It’s a pain to be fascinating to anyone, it seems. But it’s also a pain to be fascinating to no one. In a lot of cases, both result in people telling you what to be and how to be it the way THEY want…
I assume I’m not alone in feeling these pressures or in seeing how they clash with my expectations for healthy relationships. I don’t really think any age group is immune from them but as I get older I allow myself the liberty I always wanted to toy with these expectations. I love glamour magick and, sure, some of that can be maligned as shallow aesthetics and ‘playing dress up’ (if one is inclined to see such things as negative) but I love to subvert those narratives with accents of rebellion. Flowing gown? Sure. But add confronting skull earrings or drape silver bones around your neck. Velvets, sultry necklines, cute little glistening moonstone jewels, and makeup? Fine. But my lips and eyebrows might be painted “frostbite” blue.
Heck, the number of people who are thrown off by a black frock and tattoos is hilarious so it’s not like it takes much.
People can look and project, but *I* like to make the acknowledgement of death and decay a non-negotiable component of what they’re taking in. I don’t really care what their conclusions are, per se, but *I’m* not going to subvert these elements for their comfort.
To that effect, I have begun to explore this sort of thing in poetry and so on… and, as is often the case, making the link with other media, like music:
You will note the music reference in the title*. Also, for those who are not aware, a hornpipe is a type of Irish dance tune in 4/4 time. It is also intended in this poem to have a double meaning.
Usually, I’m thinking of many different tunes even if explicitly making reference only to one. Here are some other bits and bobs that have been floating around my head of late:
So far as I can tell, the lyrics are approximately as follows:
LAL LAL ARS’ A’ CHAILLEACH** (chorus) Lal lal, lal lal, lal lal, ars’ a’ chailleach, Lal lal, lal lal, lal lal, ars’ a’ chailleach, Lal lal, lal lal, lal lal, ars’ a’ chailleach, Ith am bò, thogaidh ò, ith am bò, ars’ am bodach.
Am pòs thu fhéin, am pòs thu fhéin, am pòs thu fhéin, ars’ a’ chailleach, Am pòs thu fhéin, am pòs thu fhéin, am pòs thu fhéin, ars’ a’ chailleach, Am pòs thu fhéin, am pòs thu fhéin, am pòs thu fhéin, ars’ a’ chailleach, Pòsaidh mi, pòsaidh mi, pòsaidh mi, ars’ am bodach.
Có an tè, có an tè, có an tè, ars’ a’ chailleach, Có an tè, có an tè, có an tè, ars’ a’ chailleach, Có an tè, có an tè, có an tè, ars’ a’ chailleach, Tha thu fhéin, tha thu fhéin, tha thu fhéin, ars’ am bodach.
Cuin a thig thu, cuin a thig thu, cuin a thig thu, ars’ a’ chailleach, Cuin a thig thu, cuin a thig thu, cuin a thig thu, ars’ a’ chailleach, Cuin a thig thu, cuin a thig thu, cuin a thig thu, ars’ a’ chailleach, As a’ mhionaid, as a’ mhionaid, as a’ mhionaid, ars’ am bodach.
LAL LAL SAID THE OLD WOMAN Lal lal, lal lal, lal lal, said the old woman Eat the cow, you will raise, eat the cow, said the old man.
Will you marry yourself, will you marry yourself, will you marry yourself, said the old woman… I will marry, I will marry, I will marry, said the old man
Who’s she, who’s she, who’s she, said the old woman… You are yourself, you are yourself, you are yourself, said the old man
When will you come, when will you come, when will you come, said the old woman… In a minute, in a minute, in a minute, said the old man.
And here is a lovely live version of the same tune, sung with Julie Fowlis and Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh! Look at them giggling at the lyrics!
It should be noted that my Irish is terrible but my Scottish Gaelic is non-existent.*** I’m wondering if the ‘rise/lift’ in “thogaidh ò” might have a double meaning in this context? Also, as far as I can tell, it’s possible the reflexive pronoun (“fhéin”) serves a similar function to the corresponding word in Irish – as an intensifier or for emphasis, as in “selfsame”. So “tha thu fhéin” is likely to translate more like “You yourself!” etc. Lastly, “co an tè” translates more literally as “who’s the one?” except that “tè” means ‘one’ in a female or feminine context. It reminds me of “who’s your one” (or “yer wan”) here in Ireland to ask “who’s that” with reference to women… but I’m only assuming there’s a link.
Finally, musically speaking, I want to end on a note that packs a more magical and otherworldly punch to these themes I’m exploring. It should be no surprise that, as a devotee of the Morrígan (UPG), I appreciate a good ‘otherworldly woman pursues mortal man’ narrative. Whether she’s rejected or not, it’s an appealing vehicle for commentary!
The lyrics for Sir Mannelig**** are as follows:
Swedish
Bittida en morgon innan solen upprann Innan foglarna började sjunga Bergatrollet friade till fager ungersven Hon hade en falskeliger tunga
Herr Mannelig Herr Mannelig trolofven I mig För det jag bjuder så gerna I kunnen väl svara endast ja eller nej Om I viljen eller ej.
Eder vill jag gifva de gångare tolf Som gå uti rosendelunde Aldrig har det varit någon sadel uppå dem Ej heller betsel uti munnen
Eder vill jag gifva de qvarnarna tolf Som stå mellan Tillö och Ternö Stenarna de äro af rödaste gull Och hjulen silfverbeslagna
Eder vill jag gifva ett förgyllande svärd Som klingar utaf femton guldringar Och strida huru I strida vill Stridsplatsen skolen I väl vinna
Eder vill jag gifva en skjorta så ny Den bästa I lysten att slita Inte är hon sömnad av nål eller trå Men virkat av silket det hvita
Sådana gåfvor jag toge väl emot Om du vore en kristelig qvinna Men nu så är du det värsta bergatroll Af Neckens och djävulens stämma
Bergatrollet ut på dörren sprang Hon rister och jämrar sig svåra Hade jag fått den fager ungersven Så hade jag mistat min plåga
English
Early one morning before the sun rose up Before the birds began to sing The mountain troll proposed to the handsome young man She had a false tongue
Herr Mannelig, herr Mannelig, will you be betrothed to me? For that, I offer you gifts very gladly Surely you can answer only yes or no If you wish to or not.
To you I wish to give the twelve horses [palfreys] That go in the grove of roses Never has there been a saddle upon them Nor a bridle in their mouths
To you I wish to give the twelve mills That are between Tillö and Ternö The stones are made of the reddest gold And the wheels are covered in silver
To you I wish to give a gilded sword That chimes of fifteen gold rings And fight however you fight [well or badly] The battle site you would surely win
To you I wish to give a shirt so new The best you will want to wear It was not sewn with needle or thread But worked of white silk
Such gifts I would surely accept If thou wert a Christian woman However, thou art the worst mountain troll The spawn of the Neck and the Devil
The mountain troll ran out the door She shakes and wails hard If I had got the handsome young man I would have got rid of my plight
The narrative structure here bears a lot of similarity to an old favourite of mine, “The Loathly Lady” … a version of which is called “King Henry” by Steeleye Span. Steeleye Span also sings a version of “Allison Gross” and so on. There are many traditional variations on the theme of promising/demanding gifts and goods. Sometimes it’s in the hopes of lifting a curse, other times in bestowing one, all of which can occur with or without ‘conjugal felicities’ at the end.
I feel especially drawn towards wondering about “between states” though… so much of the media available to us either focuses almost entirely on young women (with what is subjectively for me an uncomfortable current trend towards childlike china-doll makeup styles) or much older fully grey women (if any older women at all). What about the process of *becoming*? Neither young nor old but anything and everything in between? Are we not shapeshifters?
Aren’t these divisions all rather broadly brushed in the end? Who does ‘maiden, mother, crone’ apply to anyway… I’m not aware of there being a straightforward “maiden” component to the Morrígan, for example, and I think her “motherhood”-relevant narratives are deeply complicated. Ultimately – at least from my lived perspective and my own religious Unverified Personal Gnosis – that’s not really a paradigm that illuminates much. Aging is interesting but dividing it according to sexual reproductive function as a marker of social development and value? …Perhaps only with biting sarcasm. At best it’s one variable with rather limited pre-conditions.
Hence the reference to my current age in the poem.
Sincerely,
Saoirse.
* This Baltimore Consort recording seems to be the only one I can find of this tune. Incidentally, I did have this album growing up and I have mixed feelings about it. For example, the vocalist is American and she mispronounces “cailín” in “Pretty Maid Milking Her Cow” at one point…
*** I’m really thrown by Scottish accent marks. I’m used to Irish having only the fada!
**** Erik Ask-Upmark is as well known Swedish folk musician and performer of various traditional and historical nordic music. His main musical groups are Dråm, Svanevit, and Falsobordone. I have had the great privilege of meeting him as well as hearing him lecture and perform (including Sir Mannelig!) Also, here is the wiki article for Herr Mannelig ~ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herr_Mannelig
The header image is a Portrait of Christina of Denmark (incidentally ca. 36-37 years old :P), Duchess of Milan and of Lorraine, dated 1558, by François Clouet … There is another more famous Holbein portait of Cristina done when she was as teen widow.
PLEASE NOTE ~ I didn’t do a great job of diversifying my language in this post. It may come across as specific to cis-gendered female experiences but I want it to be clear that I think these pressures apply to all genders… and to the extent that the cis-gendered experience differs from others, I see that mainly as part of the over-arching problem of external – often valueless – pressures.
