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Recording generated by Sibelius 2021.7. after the Ancient Irish poem (Donegal, c. 9th century, author unknown) “My tidings for you: the stag bells, Winter snows, summer is gone. Wind high and cold, low the sun, Short his course, sea running high. Deep-red the bracken, its shape all gone- The wild-goose has raised his wonted cry. Cold has caught the wings of birds; Season of ice- these are my tidings.“
