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Radio
I still can't talk much, so can't work at my normal job. So, let's turn a
negative into a positive.
Guess it's time to try something I've been thinking about for way too long. If
you don't try, you can't succeed.
They say you should write about the things that have meaning to you. Following
a note from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
grumpoldusenaut that CBC radio in Canada are looking for
scripts, I contacted them to ask if non-Canadians could submit and suggested an
idea inspired by my love of Stan Rogers (a superb Canadian folk-singer).
They just replied, saying that they like the general idea and I should put
something concrete together. Canadians get preference if all else is equal, but
non-Canandians can give it a go.
The current script idea uses my favourite song of Stan's (The Mary Ellen Carter)
coupled with all the pain I have regarding Rosalie's illness. However, it's
using the song as background inspiration, rather than telling the story of the
song directly.
I need to come up with several ideas and the deadline is pretty soon.
I've got the germ of an idea regarding another song. Fingal. It definitely
relates to the memory of the pagan gods that the Canadian settlers originally
from the Hebrides took over with them, but I feel it can relate to other things
as well and be taken in a more generic context.
Would any of the pagans reading this care to comment what meaning it conveys to
them? What ideas/parallels does it invoke?
The lyrics are here
(Verse 1)
Cold wind on the harbour and rain on the road,
Wet promise of winter brings recourse to coal.
There's fire in the blood and a fog on Bras d'Or.
The giant will rise with the moon.
(Verse 2)
'Twas the same ancient fever in the Isles of the Blest
That our fathers brought with them when they "went west."
It's the blood of the Druids that never will rest.
The giant will rise with the moon.
(Chorus)
So crash the glass down. Move with the tide.
Young friends and old whiskey are burning in-side.
Crash the glass down.
Fingal will rise ... ... with the moon. ...
(Verse 3)
In inclement weather the people are fey.
Three-thousand-year stories as the night slips away.
Remembering Fingal feels not far away.
The giant will rise with the moon.
(Verse 4)
The wind's in the north. There'll be new moon tonight.
And we have no Circle to dance in its sight.
So light a torch, bring the bottle, and build the fire bright.
The giant will rise with the moon!
(Repeat Chorus)
(Repeat Verse 1)
negative into a positive.
Guess it's time to try something I've been thinking about for way too long. If
you don't try, you can't succeed.
They say you should write about the things that have meaning to you. Following
a note from
grumpoldusenaut that CBC radio in Canada are looking forscripts, I contacted them to ask if non-Canadians could submit and suggested an
idea inspired by my love of Stan Rogers (a superb Canadian folk-singer).
They just replied, saying that they like the general idea and I should put
something concrete together. Canadians get preference if all else is equal, but
non-Canandians can give it a go.
The current script idea uses my favourite song of Stan's (The Mary Ellen Carter)
coupled with all the pain I have regarding Rosalie's illness. However, it's
using the song as background inspiration, rather than telling the story of the
song directly.
I need to come up with several ideas and the deadline is pretty soon.
I've got the germ of an idea regarding another song. Fingal. It definitely
relates to the memory of the pagan gods that the Canadian settlers originally
from the Hebrides took over with them, but I feel it can relate to other things
as well and be taken in a more generic context.
Would any of the pagans reading this care to comment what meaning it conveys to
them? What ideas/parallels does it invoke?
The lyrics are here
(Verse 1)
Cold wind on the harbour and rain on the road,
Wet promise of winter brings recourse to coal.
There's fire in the blood and a fog on Bras d'Or.
The giant will rise with the moon.
(Verse 2)
'Twas the same ancient fever in the Isles of the Blest
That our fathers brought with them when they "went west."
It's the blood of the Druids that never will rest.
The giant will rise with the moon.
(Chorus)
So crash the glass down. Move with the tide.
Young friends and old whiskey are burning in-side.
Crash the glass down.
Fingal will rise ... ... with the moon. ...
(Verse 3)
In inclement weather the people are fey.
Three-thousand-year stories as the night slips away.
Remembering Fingal feels not far away.
The giant will rise with the moon.
(Verse 4)
The wind's in the north. There'll be new moon tonight.
And we have no Circle to dance in its sight.
So light a torch, bring the bottle, and build the fire bright.
The giant will rise with the moon!
(Repeat Chorus)
(Repeat Verse 1)