Woolen Pants and Grave Situations

Episode 93-Woolen Pants and Grave Situations
Unravelling strands of an old jig
This Irish Music Stories episode aired June 1, 2026
https://shannonheatonmusic.com/Episode-93-Woolen-Pants-and-Grave-Situations

Speakers, in order of appearance
>> Shannon Heaton: flute player, singer, composer, teacher, and host of Irish Music Stories 
>> Matt Heaton: Pennsylvania-born, Boston-based guitarist and bouzouki player

>> Shannon: I’m Shannon Heaton. And this is Irish Music Stories, the show about traditional music and the bigger stories behind it.

[ Music: “Buried My Wife and Danced on Her Grave” from Whirring Wings
Artists: Matt & Shannon Heaton ]

Like what’s up with “I Buried My Wife and Danced on Her Grave?”

Buried My Wife is an old, old melody. A two-part jig from Munster which overlaps with—maybe it grew out of—the song Cúnla, which was first printed in George Petrie’s 1855 Collection of the Ancient Music of Ireland. This means that Cúnla, the song, was a classic by the mid 19th century. Maybe before.

Cúnla is a Connemara song about a púca, a mischievous shape-shifting creature.

Who is that there now knockin’ the window pane?
Only me says Cúnla.

Who is that there now tickling the toes of me?
Tickling the knees of me?
Tickling the thighs of me

[ Music: Hometown Lullaby from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

So there’s the old old Cúnla. It’s got two parts with words (that I just sung in English, but it’s originally in Irish)

And there’s the old two-part Buried My Wife, a variant on Cunla. Very similar, just a few notes different (lilt and demonstrate)… a few different landing notes, but definitely a variant.

Then there’s a longer tune that flute player and Chicago police captain Francis O’Neill called the Frieze Britches, though in his table of contents he says AKA Buried My Wife and Danced on Top of Her. He first put it in print in his 1903 book. It starts just like Cúnla and then continues with five more parts. A 6-parter! Which was then recorded as a five-parter by the Flanagan Brothers and James Morrison in 1923, Michael Coleman in 1927, Leo Rowsome in 1948, Julia Clifford in 1952. All five partsparts. People were mad performative back then.

And we still are. Because we still play the five part version. And the two part version. And both of them are associated with the late great piper from Clare, Willie Clancy.

Willie recorded “Buried My Wife…” (he called it Buried My Wife and Danced on Top of Her) in 1973. It’s on The Pipering of Willie Clancy Vol. 2.
[ audio excerpt from Vol 2 ]

And he recorded the “Frieze Britches” in the late 1950s — it’s on his Gold Ring Recording with five parts the first time around… and SIX parts on the repeat.
[ audio excerpt from Gold Ring ]

When Matt Molloy recorded the tune, first with the Bothy band in 1976, he only played the two parts— and he played it in a slide or single jig rhythm (so, like a 12/8 feel).
[ audio excerpt from Bothy Band 1976

It’s such great flute playing, and it’s really a cool way around the tune. The Bothy Band called it the Frieze Britches. Frieze, by the way, is a type of woolen fabric, which is NOT what the band was wearing. They were rocking the denim, the bell bottoms. Maybe Christy Moore wore Frieze when he sang Cúnla for the 1973 Planxty recording, which was also great.

But the variation of this tune I love the best, and the name that I adore, is the two-part version, “Buried My Wife and Danced on her Grave.”

A lot of people have played this tune so beautifully
Joe Burke on box 1986
Eamonn Cotter on flute 1996
Paddy Glackin & Robbie Hannan on pipes 1991
Brian Rooney on fiddle 2002
[ audio excerpts ]

[ Music: “Triumph Theme,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

And of course WIllie Clancy… and Garret Barry before him. But Willie didn’t get it from Garret directly—Willie was born in 1918, so he missed one of the most famous early Clare pipers by 9 years. But he got Buried My Wife just once removed, from fiddle player Nell AKA Ellen McCarthy Gavin. And then he gave it to lots of other players in Clare, which is where I learned it—in Ennis, in the early 2000s.

So here’s a deeper dive on Nell, and the tune she helped give me (posthumously).

[ first phrase of Buried My Wife on whistle ]

Ellen AKA Nell McCarthy was born in 1887. In her family home near Kilmihil in West Clare. The village name comes from Irish, meaning the church of St. Michael. The McCarthys liked music more than they liked church. They frequently hosted visiting musicians. And one of their regular and most beloved guests was the itinerant piper Garret Barry.

He’d stay for long periods of time and became a mentor to Ellen. As she learned fiddle and concertina, he gave her tunes and told her stories from his childhood, about growing up in the middle of the Great Famine, about how he lost his sight as a small child.

He also told her fairy stories. And he later became embedded in Clare fairy tales—stories that talk about Garret Barry meeting changelings and supernatural beings. Talk about being a legend…

Garret taught Nell beautiful, unique tunes, including Garret Barry’s Jig, Garret Barry’s Reel. He taught her the air Sean O’Dwyer of the Glen

[ music: plays first part of Sean O’Dwyer air ]

He taught her a strange version of the Ace and Deuce of Pipering. The Humours of Glendart. And Buried My Wife and Danced on Her Grave.

He may have learned these tunes from Seamus Mac Cruitín, a teacher and poet at a hedge-school near Inagh—these small, informal, rural, culturally rich schools that started in the 1700s when Penal Laws forbade Catholics from teaching. This essentially shut poor rural people out of formal education. Some of the people who stepped up were local literate farmers teaching basic reading and arithmetic. But some of the hedge school teachers were highly educated poets, scholars, and musicians who — including people like Seamus Mac Cruitín.

Garret would sometimes play music at Seamus’s school where he absorbed some of the language and history lessons, and also older ideas about traditional music. Or maybe he learned the tune from other older Clare pipers—though there weren’t many left at the end of the 19th century, after Pádraig O’Briain died.

[ Music: “D Walk Down,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

People knew Padraig well, mostly because of the famous painting by Galway artist Joseph Harverty. He painted this “Limerick Piper” —it was Pádraig in a woodland setting wearing fancy clothes. It ended up being widely reproduced. The Limerick Piper hung in homes all over Ireland, while the actual musician spent his days as a poor street musician in urban Limerick. Still he lived 89 years, which seems like a long life for a struggling busker born in the 18th century. I did a little digging about that, and I learned that the “struggling musician” description was all a little bit of an invention.

He did roam around to play at fairs and street corners. He played in swankier settings sometimes. He’d been born to a wealthy family, so there were probably some remaining connections and support systems there. Also, while he did face poverty, his long lifespan could have been thanks, in part, to his music struggles—he moved around a lot so had less exposure to localized disease outbreaks. He stayed physically active, but not by enduring hard agricultural or industrial labor.

[ Music: “G Chimes,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

Garret was born in 1847, 74 years after Pádraig O’Briain. They overlapped by about 15 years). At this point, half the young people were leaving the country. Farms were abandoned. The scene in rural areas (which was most of Ireland) was no longer full of house dances and intimate gatherings,. Those were a big spot for older solo piping had grown.

Also, some of the patron families that would have had Padraig come around, they pulled back by the time Garret was on the scene. The the church started calling the old dance-house world morally suspect. Overall piping really faded. Even the less devout people just thought of it all as something old fashioned. They were ready for something new.

[ Music: “Heartstrings Theme,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

Seasons come and seasons go. Public health crises and systemic shocks can cause great devastation. And they can ultimately accelerate transformation. Nothing like seeing your way of life crumble to trigger revolution.

The Great Famine, The Great Hunger devastated Ireland and many of its Irish speakers. Survivors often shifted to the commercial language of the British Empire to survive and avoid persecution. Native language—and cultural arts—were on the verge of extinction.

Garret Barry died before the Gaelic Revival had gained serious momentum. But by the early 1900s, people started speaking Irish again. Old Irish stories, history, and myths were collected and published. People started playing Gaelic football and hurling again (not just for sport but for cultural identity). And they started turning back to Irish traditional music.

Big dance bands were the favored acts. People were mad for the recordings coming in from America—musicians who’d emigrated to America had started recording tunes in New York and Chicago. And they’d send the 78 RPMs home to Ireland. And on both sides of the pond, people were flocking to big dances (in halls where you’d need loud instruments and amplification… these were often in churches, which meant the church could profit from the rental fees). The Public Dance Halls Act was kind of a newspeak way for the church to be able to “SUPERVISE” events instead of allowing questionable private house parties and dances.

[ Music: “G Modal Theme,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

But not all house dances declined. People were also going to intimate folk clubs. So ballad singing and piping music also reemerged, especially as dynamic players started hitting the scene — like Dublin’s Leo Rowsome who also taught extensively and made pipes. And like Johnny Doran (and brother Felix). They were really starting to get some attention starting in the 1920s.

Johnny Doran made such a huge impression on Willie Clancy and his friend Martin Talty that they both took up the pipes. And THEY inspired more pipers/ So did with Séamus Ennis who helped found Na Píobairí Uilleann (the Uilleann pipers association) with Leo Rowsome, Paddy Moloney and Brendan Breathnach. Séamus Ennis also helped document songs and tunes from all over Ireland, and broadcasted them for RTE and BBC. He even came over to American and shared music in small, intimate musical performances around the country. He helped give Irish music an international reach.

[ Music: Celtic Grooves ]

Ellen (Nell) McCarthy Gavin was not a piper. But she absorbed a lot of music from her piping mentor Garret Barry. He’d encouraged her to enter competitions. And shortly after his death she ended up entering and winning competitions.

[ “Ace and Deuce of Pipering” audio excerpt from Nell Gavin ]

She became a fine fiddle player with a driving style. With a repertoire of tunes that included gems from Garret Barry directly. By all accounts she was a great fiddle player.

And also a female fiddle player. Which now is really only a point of interest for people looking to hire sexy babes for touring shows, or for old school bands who don’t want to deal with travelling around with someone who will make them feel bad for hooking up with people on the road, or who will possibly get pregnant and then not be available for shows…

But most audiences just want to hear good music. And most musicians just want fellow collaborators who are excellent players, easygoing people, and can show up on time and answer messages about their availability.

When Nell was competing and winning competitions, there were other dominant Feis and Oireachtas stars like Bridget Kenny from Dublin (The Queen of Irish Fiddlers) and her daughter Josephine Kenny Whelan. And Limerick fiddler and dancer Teresa Halpin,Waterford singer Máighréad Ní Annagáin. But back then it was pretty special to have a rural Clare girl becoming widely known as an elite traditional fiddler.

After Nell married her husband Patrick Galvin in 1938, she settled in Kilrush, in West Clare. That’s where Willie Clancy would visit. He had become interested in older styles and repertoires. He loved Nell’s playing: he admired her 19th century, dance-house, West Clare vibe. He liked how she used lots of double stops— not unlike those Sliabh Luachra players like Padraig O’Keefe, Dennis Murphy, Julia Clifford); and not unlike what American old time fiddlers started doing when Irish and Scottish music morphed over here.

[ Music: “Minor Pick and Drive,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

Willie Clancy would take the West Clare railroad out to see the Galvins and get tunes off Nell… Tunes like Mrs Galvin’s [lilts] and also tunes like Buried My Wife and Danced on Her Grave.

So what about the tune title?
Buried My Wife and Danced on Her Grave.
Buried My Wife and Danced on Top of Her

Is it meant to be funny? Or a little mean? Like… there are dark English and Scottish songs like The Contented Widow — that’s a 1680s English broadside about a widow who’s relieved after her difficult husband dies. Or The Merry Cuckold and the Kind Wife, a 1750s hit about a husband who is repeatedly deceived by his unfaithful wife. There’s the Jolly Widow, the Merry Widow. Both of those talk about widowhood as a new freedom.

[ Music: “My Love is in America,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

My husband Matt Heaton thinks the name Buried My Wife and Danced on her Grave is a bit grim. And since my love is not only in America, but two rooms away, I’m going to ask him about it.

>> Shannon: All right, Matt Heaton, are you ready?
>> Matt: I am ready.
>> Shannon: Ok, um… what about Buried my Wife?
>> Matt: The most macabre title in all Irish traditional music?
>> Shannon: Yeah, you think it’s pretty dark, huh?
>> Matt: I do, I do. And maybe I’ve watched too many detective movies, but the image that comes to mind is that he murdered his wife and buried her in the backyard.
>> Shannon: Oh, so he’s like hee hee, ho ho!
>> Matt: Yeah, right.
>> Shannon: I’m glad I’m asking you now. I always wondered why you were so upset by this title. There’s nothing you want to tell me, is there? Haha
>> Matt: Haha, no!

>> Shannon: Tune titles can be really fun. They can be curious. And trying to trace the history of the titles gives you a little bit more insight iabout the tune itself—maybe about who played it, or where it came from, or wherever.

Like Cunla – who is that there now tickling the toes of me, only me says Cunla — the words are wrapped in the little tune; and there’s a story there. A story about a magical, maybe creepy little monster? Maybe Cunla put an end to the wife… Buried My Wife After Cunla came round? Buried My Wife in her Frieze Britches?

Even more than the title of the tune (and I don’t always have names for them, because I’ll get them from other people who don’t know what they’re called, or who played them)—even more than the names of the tunes, there’s the melody.

Buried My Wife and Danced is a two-part double jig (two A parts… two B parts). And it sits in a D mode—D is the tonal center. [Demonstration]. So I know it’s in D, because that’s where it starts. And that’s where a lot of the melodic ideas sort of end up. That’s where they land, settle, resolve.

Like a lot of old piping tunes, it’s a modal tune. Sometimes the Cs are natural, sometimes they’re sharp, sometimes they’re kind of in between. So it goes like this.
[ plays A part ]

You see how it always lands on the D? And there’s that C natural?

So things get a little more ambiguous in the B part — sometimes you’ll hear C natural, sometimes you’ll hear C#.

Nice modal, modular fun

And some people think it’s really fun to diagnose which mode is being spelled out. Whatever, mixolydian. That’s like saying what TYPE of wool pants are you wearing? Merino? Cashmere? Lambswool? Frieze?

Specifics can be great. But for pants, I guess I’d go for wool… or woolen. And for tunes like this, I think modal will do…
Either way, it ends like this (plays)

>> Shannon: And then what about the tune itself (lilts)
>> Matt: It’s a great tune, isn’t it? I mean, it’s really.. It threads that needle between driving, it’s a pretty driving tune, but it’s also kinda chipper and happy sounding. It somehow combines those two elements. It’s not like one of those intense dark tunes, but neither is it a completely happy tune. It sort of fits right in the middle.
>> Shannon: It slaps.
>> Matt: It slaps hard.
>> Shannon: It’s a good tune for dancing…
>> Matt: Yeah
>> Shannon: …At a wake! Haha.

[ Music: Buried My Wife reprise ]

Shannon: Well, I really like the Irish wake shtick. Laying your dead person in the kitchen and having a house party, singing songs, playing some tunes. I like the slapstick humor of the song Finnegan’s Wake—Tim Finnegan dies after a fall. He’s laid out in the house, and things quickly devolve as people are drinking, singing, brawling. Whiskey spills everywhere and then he hilariously “revives”

And really, the sadder the situation, the more I’m likely to use a bit of humor as a coping mechanism.And I’m sure that dead people are not offended by irreverent humor. Funerals are for the living… to weep and wail, and dance and sing. Or to play volleyball. That’s what we did at my dad’s funeral.

I Buried My Dad and danced on the court?

Buried My Wife and Danced on Her Grave…

No matter what it’s called… no matter how many parts to the tune… no matter the rhythmic feel (jig, slide)… the air of Cunla, the Frieze Britches, and Buried My Wife has such a lovely feel and texture to it. Even if you’re just playing it on your flute in your podcast studio. Or if you’re Joe Heaney lilting it

[ Music: Joe Heaney lilts ]

So does frieze woolen clothing, which you can still find. Though now it’s kind of a niche thing, for historical reenactment (if you like to larp). Or for high end outdoor wool (if you like camping and you’re rich, which seems like a really small market..). If you’re lucky you can pick it up at military surplus resale stores. And if you’re lucky, you’ll pick up some great tunes that have been passed on … that you’ll get to pass on (and podcast about.)

[ Music: “Mountain Grooves,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

Thanks for listening. Irish Music stories is written and produced by me, Shannon Heaton. Thanks to Matt Heaton for the chat about the tune, and for the production music. I hope you’ll check out all of Season 10—and the many stories that came before it. You can learn more about this project and see videos and playlists and find out how to support my work. Just check out IrishMusicStories.org. – Or subscribe on your favorite podcast app, or whatever kind of podcast wool you like

I’m off to some summer camps and festivals… and to figure out the whys, hows, and whens of Season 11. Hope you’ll stay tuned at IrishMusicStories.org