What are you listening to?
- Thread starter redjade
- Start date
The song is beautiful, but I don't think it is a song by MJ. In the presentation of the video, it said that it was a creation by AI by a fan. Maybe I am wrong, but that means that the AI took the voice of MJ and made this song? If it is this it is well done.
I think you may be right. I looked it up and apparently it was a poem he wrote in 1993. If it was a poem and not a song, then it's likely that AI was used to turn it into a song. It is well done. Just kind of a shame that we are starting to not be able to tell if it's the original artist or an AI. (I had Michael Jackson poster on my walls as a kid. I did not have AI posters, lol!)
If it was his poem, the AI did a good work, and gave us a part of the inside beauty of MJ. He was a good person, I think so.
We start to live in a world where fiction and reality is coming together. It is very dangerous because the red line is very thin between fiction (AI) and reality.
Anyway thanks for the discovery of this song Jacygirl!
I think he was a good person too. Horrible childhood...ended up loved by millions around the world.
Oh you are so welcome loreta ! I didn't post the video originally, so I came across it from somebody else. Nice that we're sharing here. It really is a beautiful song.
Spancil Hill - Shane MacGowan & Christy Moore, 1994
Last night as I lay dreaming, of pleasant days gone by,
Me mind being bent on rambling, to Ireland I did fly.
I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the wind,
'Til next I came to anchor at the Cross of Spancilhill.
It being on the twenty third of June, the day before the fair,
When Ireland's sons and daughters, and friends assembled there.
The young, the old, the brave and the bold, came their duty to fulfill,
At the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancilhill.
I went to see me neighbours, to see what they might say,
The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turnin' grey.
But I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still,
And he used to make me britches when I lived in Spancilhill.
I paid a flying visit, to my first and only love,
She's as white as any lilly, gentle as a dove.
And she threw her arms around me, saying Johnny I love you still,
As she's now the farmer's daughter, and the Pride of Spancilhill.
I dreamed I held and kissed her, as in the days of yore,
Ah Johnny you're only jokin', as many as the time before,
Then the cock he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill,
I awoke in California, many miles from Spancilhill.
Me mind being bent on rambling, to Ireland I did fly.
I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the wind,
'Til next I came to anchor at the Cross of Spancilhill.
It being on the twenty third of June, the day before the fair,
When Ireland's sons and daughters, and friends assembled there.
The young, the old, the brave and the bold, came their duty to fulfill,
At the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancilhill.
I went to see me neighbours, to see what they might say,
The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turnin' grey.
But I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still,
And he used to make me britches when I lived in Spancilhill.
I paid a flying visit, to my first and only love,
She's as white as any lilly, gentle as a dove.
And she threw her arms around me, saying Johnny I love you still,
As she's now the farmer's daughter, and the Pride of Spancilhill.
I dreamed I held and kissed her, as in the days of yore,
Ah Johnny you're only jokin', as many as the time before,
Then the cock he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill,
I awoke in California, many miles from Spancilhill.
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