A couple of months ago a friend gave me a couple of CDs as I was leaving Ireland. The first was Sean Nos by Sinead O'Connor and it's extraordinary breathing fire into tracks which could run the risk of cliches familiarity, like "Oro Se do Bheath' Abhaile" about pirate queen Grace O'Malley.

The other gem is an live album by an outfit called Mozaik, which involves Andy Irvine and some string musicians from Bulgaria and the Balkans. Lovers of Irish trad will be simply blown away by the opening track "The Blacksmith", but the real treat lies tucked inside at track 7: "Pony Boy/Never Tire of the Road"". I caught the word fascist in one of the verses but couldn't quite make out the context. Then I listened to the whole song more closely. The final verse goes like this:

"Don't let them ever fool you Or take you by surprise That dirty smell of a politician And the man with the greed in his eyes One big union, that's our plan And the IWW"s your only man The flames of discontent we'll fan For the cause that never dies."

Fuck me! I yelped, it's a Wobbly tune, and a great one, played bluegrass style. My assumption was that it was from the IWW songbook or composed by Guthrie. Nope.

The song was written by Andy Irvine, whom according to an interview I've just read, is himself a member of the IWW. To put this into context Irvine is key, if not central, to the group that revolutionized trad, Planxty, whom I adore and saw at Christmas (I even brought my father). Of course there are a lot of Irish connections to the Wobs. Big Bill Haywood spoke in Ireland and was a friend of pioneering 'Misfit' Jack Whyte (anarchist gun runner/renegade born of a loyalist family); James Connolly on the other hand was an organizer for the IWW when he was in the US.

Here's the song.

Never Tire of the Road

Never tire of the rolling wheel Never tire of the ways of the world Way out yonder is a-calling me And the dark road leads me onwards And the highway, that's my code And the lonesome voice that I heard said Never tire of the road

I was just a small town country boy When I left that country town Route 66 to the Westward And hopped an old freight down California here I come By the side door Pullman and the sunburnt thumb And they called us Okies, lowdown bums And the police on us frowned

California to the New York Island Me and my guitar And we played in many a hobo jungle Many a skid row bar Standing out in the wind and the rain That lonesome whistle is a sweet refrain When you are waiting for some old freight train That carries an empty car.

Shipped on board the liberty ship, To sail the ocean blue We were carrying guns, TNT, D-Day soldiers too, All the men onboard agree With Frisco, Jimmy, Ronnie and me, Our song rang out across the sea You fascists bound to lose All of you fascists bound to lose All of you fascists bound to lose All of you fascists bound to lose You're bound to lose, You fascists Bound to lose

Don't let them ever fool you Or take you by surprise That dirty smell of a politician And the man with the greed in his eyes One big union, that's our plan And the IWW"s your only man The flames of discontent we'll fan For the cause that never dies