Story Behind the Song
This song is as much a love song for the beautifull Margaree's as it is for the woman I left behind.
In late September of 1998, I returned to my home in East Margaree, having played that evening at the Normaway Inn, and as I carried my guitar to the front door I heard an owl cry. I just love that sound. It reminds me of my boyhood days, spent camping in Balquider or on the shores of Loch Tay. When I turned around and looked up, I saw the northern lights. It was a perfect end to an evening. Instead of going inside, I sat on the front porch and watched the heavenly spectacle. The northern lights danced an played in the Autumn sky until the moon rose and chased them from view.
The winter of 98/99 was a hard one. There were several wind storms and many nights found me driving through blizzards trying to make it home from whichever pub or concert I had played that evening.
January brought ice storms and a mild spell brought us a few days of driving rain.
The Margaree River, which had frozen all the way up from the ocean, began to thaw. As I watched from an upstairs window, and waited for the river to "Let go", I thought back to that beautiful evening, in the early autumn, and wrote the words to "The Hills Of Margaree". It was a day and a half of torrential rain that sent the ice on the Margaree crashing and grinding it's way to the sea and when the river was finally free, the words to the song were complete. I would later set the words to an old folk tune and began singing it at various venues. The response has been overwhelming.
Brenda Callan, for whom the song was written, plays fiddle in this song and indeed, throughout "The Hills Of Margaree" album.
Some Trivia:
The tunes that I remember her playing by the fireside:- Hector The Hero, Fanny Power and The Burning Of The Piper's Hut. (Three of my favourites).
Lyrics
THE HILLS OF MARGAREE
Well I hope that you can read these words, we both know my writing's not too good
And I trust this letter finds you, living in that same suburban neighbourhood
And I've finally found the time to sit me down and maybe try to let you see
How happy we could both be, living in the lovely hills of Margaree
Last night, I heard an owl cry and so I took a walk outside
And saw the northern lights dance lightly, high above a wild Cape Breton sky
Felt the North West wind blow softly, all along the valley from the sea
And from my doorway watched the moon rise, high above the hills of Margaree
Well I didn't sleep too well you know, I missed you more than words can say, last night
'Till finally I heard the songbird singing to the comming morning light
And I know if you could be here now, it wouldn't take too much to let you see
The Blessed Lord Himself, alive and breathing in the hills of Margaree
For a troubadour sometimes, you know how I can be so quiet in my way
And it's never really bothered me to be alone and to pass the time of day
But lately I've been lonely dear and thinking how much happier I'd be
If we could spend one day together, in the lovely hills of Margaree
That evening by the fireside, you played on the fiddle soft and low
And I took out my old guitar, it seems so very long ago
Now every violin I hear, reminds me how much happier I'd be
If we could only be together in the lovely hills of Margaree
And I know that you were happy long before I ever came to pass your way
And even though you wanted to, you never really tried to make me stay
And I don't have the right to ask if you would ever come along with me
But still I wish that we could be together in the hills of Margaree
And I know that you can read these words, even though my writing's not too good
And I'm sure this letter finds you living in that same suburban neighbourhood
And I've finally found the time to sit me down and maybe try to let you see
How happy we could both be, living in the lovely hills of Margaree.
(Alternative to last verse)
And I know that you can read these words, even though my writing's not too good
And I'm sorry if I've rambled on and said some things I never really should
But if you ever find the time to sit and maybe think awhile of me
Remember I'll be thinking of you, in the lovely hills of Margaree.
(words by Jim Brannigan, jan 19
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