They saved the best for last:
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.
And we sang with them
Over in Killarney
Many years ago,
Me Mither sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.
Just a simple little ditty,
In her good ould Irish way,
And l'd give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.
"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."
And we sang with them.
If you were "down" at the start of the evening, you certainly were "up" at evening's end, spending two hours listening to the lilt of so many Irish tunes you never knew existed, and the three Irish Tenors (Finbar Wright, Anthony Kearns, and Ronan Tynan-do these names sound Irish or what?) and their songs made you happy at Wolf Trap.
The last half of the show was definitely better than the first half when most of the songs were unfamiliar (to me), and the orchestra (composed of splendidly talented local musicians, led by conductor ? ) played several instrumentals.
The Tenors sang many of the tunes individually, too, without their beautiful harmonies when all were together. But it was all right since the selections were sweet-sounding, pleasing, and welcome.
The audience filled about three-fifths of the covered seats at Wolf Trap, and for once, the "lawn people" seemed to have the goods on the "covered seat people" because of the heat. The "lawns" had more open space and breezes to cool them off while, meanwhile, up under the roof, we were tightly squeezed in and breezeless, but it didn't matter since the show was worth the price wherever you were, and the moving moon between the huge supporting columns made more magic in the night.
For a while we feared the Tenors were going to omit the last number, but they, who hypnotized us with their powerfully strong voices, did not disappoint. No one in the audience sang with them, so we could all listen and savor every moment of the perfect melody:
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
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