Just on a personal level, you, you know, 'cause as you go back, you go back to both of you in your teens, what, what, just what, what do you remember him most for?

Well, I mean, you know, I suppose essentially we were brothers from another mother, as they put it.

Uh, um, you know, uh, in, in many ways, I think we, uh, we were very opposites to each other, which I suppose made us fascinated with each other.

Um, and Glen was very extrovert, um, very outgoing, very bold and brash and brave, and I was far more, um, introverted and, uh, you know, keeping me thoughts to myself.

Um, so I think we had, uh, just, it's even s- it's so bizarre to think of him in the past tense at all.

Um, we thankfully did some Frames gigs earlier this year, and we got to spend some time together, and we've been in touch recently as well, and there was talk of doing more Frames stuff in the future.

So it's, it's just a very hollow feeling today just to, to, to, to mourn another friend.

Uh, would, would, did, did, was there any kind of chips on shoulders carried because of that over the years, do you think?

God bless the Pope." [cheering]

[speaking Irish] Um, I'm gonna play you, uh, an air, um, that's ab- about, how old would it be? 170 years old or so.

Um, but I was, a few months ago, I was working on a score for a documentary on Daniel O'Connell of this parish, and, uh, he, uh...

There was obviously the famine, uh, happened around the same time as Daniel actually died during the famine.

But I was instantly drawn to this tune that I knew for a long time, as my father was a sean-nós singer himself.

And so I decided to read up about this piece of music and this song.

It's called Johnny Sheoiagh, or Johnny Joyce would be the English version.