Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying
‘Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
‘Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
When I walk in the graveyards, searching for ancestors and such, I sometimes think of the lyrics of Danny Boy. For so long I thought a number of my tree’s branches were of Irish heritage. I have found out the majority of those particular lines are Scottish. Since my recent trip, looking at all the stone photos has definitely brought the tune to mind. I am sure if I looked up the history of the song there is probably a reason I should not think of the tune, but for now I will live within ignorant bliss. (No need to inform me, so don’t. I have the Googles.)
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.
With the trip to Cambria County, Pennsylvania, I spent a lot of time with my nose in books, trying to find my ancestors when really all I had to do was walk among the stones.
And I shall hear, tho’ soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me
I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
I found my third Great Grandfather, Robert Jacob McCombie (yes, Scottish) with a greater ease that I had thought possible. I am currently working on his branch of the tree. I was able to find his obituary from a line of thought captured on my trip. One line stands out to me: “Deceased was a man of rare intelligence and a most excellent citizen.” I am eager to find out all there is about this ancestor.
I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
Thoughts and Ponderances 