Ep. 124
The Commonwealth Games began life as the British Empire Games, making them the perfect inspiration for this week’s Three Tune Tuesday. Through three fascinating recordings from the early twentieth century, we explore how music reflected the rise, confidence, and changing legacy of the British Empire. From Harry Lauder’s comforting vision of soldiers carrying home across the globe, to the triumphant strains of Land of Hope and Glory, and finally an Irish folk melody that speaks to a culture finding its own voice, these records reveal how popular music could celebrate power, shape public opinion, and preserve identity. Rather than asking whether empire was simply good or bad, this episode examines how ordinary people experienced it—and how a few minutes of music can open a window into one of history’s largest and most complex stories.
As down the glen one Easter morn To a city fair rode I. There armoured lines of marching men In squadrons passed me by. No pipe did hum, no battle drum Did sound its loud tattoo But the Angelus bell o’er the Liffy’s swell Rang out in the foggy dew.
Right proudly high over Dublin town They hung out that flag of war. ’Twas better to die ‘neath an Irish sky Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar. And from the plains of Royal Meath Strong men came hurrying through; While Brittania’s sons with their long-range guns Sailed in from the foggy dew.
oh the night fell black and the rifle’s crack made perfidious Albion reel mid the leaded rail seven tongues of flame did shine o’re the lines of steel by each shining blade a prayer was said that to Ireland her sons be true when the morning broke still the war flag shook out its fold on the foggy dew
it was England bade our wild geese go That small nations might be free. Their lonely graves are by Suvla’s waves On the fringe of the grey North Sea. But had they died by Pearse’s side Or fought with Cathal Bruagh, Their graves we’d keep where the Fenians sleep ’Neath the shroud of the foggy dew.
but the bravest fell, and the requiem bell Rang mournfully and clear For those who died that Eastertide In the springing of the year. And the world did gaze in deep amaze At those fearless men and true Who bore the fight that freedom’s light Might shine through the foggy dew.
then back through that glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore for I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see more and back to and fro in dreams I’ll go and I’ll kneel and pray for you oh slavery fled oh glorious dead when you fell in the foggy dew
A Highland regiment was forced to start, To a distant land across the foam; Whilst a poor old mither, with a heavy heart, Waited anxiously at home. Soon her sad face turned into a smiling one, When a letter came from across the sea For it said “Don’t cry! Don’t you sigh! I’m as happy as can be”:
There’s a piper playing in the morning, An auld Scotch tune so fine There’s a tartan pladdie buckled on each laddie Oh it’s just like Auld Lang Syne. I can hear them praising Bonnie Scotland, Bonnie Scotland’s fame, So don’t sigh dear, Am a’richt here It’s just like being at hame.
The fierce fight lengthened and the months dragged on, Whilst the roll call shorten’d every day; Though they saw their comrades falling, one by one Yet they bravely fought their way; For the handful left had sworn to do or die, And with one long cheer they forged ahead; And a Highland lad fought like mad, As mither proudly read:
The flag was planted beneath the scorching sun, Where the white man’s rule will ever reign; And the brave Scots soldiers who had fought and won Were returning home again. And the Highland mither watched the passing ranks For the face of one she loved so dear, And in frenzied joy, kissed her boy, As he whispered in her ear: