The Battle of Carlow A.D. 1798
Author: W. O'N. possibly Slieve Margy?
From The Nationalist, 18/09/1897.
The poem records the courage, motivation and fate of the hundreds who died on that terrible morning in May, 1798 when ambushed and slaughtered by English soldiers on Tullow Street in Carlow town
A morning fair, o’erarched with skies of May,
Broke over files of men in stern array-
By wrongs made reckless – to avenge the flood –
The seething torrent of their tears and blood
By England’s hell-hounds shed. The sunbeams fell
On bounding hearts that fear could never quell,
On pikes and muskets gleaming bare and bright,
That would ere long be gore-dyed in the fight.
They silver-tipped the roofs of Carlow town,
They fell on Crosbie’s lawn and mansion down,
And far away o’er Wicklow’s hills serene
They burnished all around with radiant sheen;
And never sun shone on a braver band,
And never yet had seen the old green land
Hearts true as these for her to win renown,
And free, as free as air, each hill and town.
They gathered there from passes of Idrone,
With step of grace and lightness all their own;
From Myshal’s slopes, from Ballon and Ardoyne,
They came, with Carlow’s gallant men to join;
From Kellistown, and from the Burrin’s side,
And Tullow’s sons aglow with manly pride,
All, all combine to strike for homes and kin,
And Freedom’s glorious laurels for Ireland win.
Cheer after cheer ascends from them on high,
Those gallant hearts resolved to do or die;
With stately tread they march upon the town
And cut the foremost lines of Yeomen down.
When from each side a murderous fusillade
Poured death and havoc ‘mong their ranks dismayed.
The redcoats ambushed in each house secure
Death’s leaden messengers sent swift and sure.
Yet on they marched, their shot and shell defying,
Tho’ hundreds now upon the streets are lying
In ghastly heaps- their bravest and their best –
Their hearts and minds forever now at rest;
Hearts that with life and hope were brimming o’er
At morning’s dawn, are now, alas! no more,
Till twice three hundred men are lying dead
And Carlow’s streets are dyed a gory red.
Were Crimea’s heroes, a braver, nobler band
Than those six hundred dying for their land,
Or did they suffer a more glorious death
Before the Russian canon’s fiery breath,
Than they who fell in Freedom’s sacred cause,
Insurgents made by England’s penal laws?
Ah, no! the grandest and the noblest death
Is ‘neath the flag of Freedom and of Faith.
The Hanging of a Carlow Boy
Author : Unknown
The song uses the melody of the well-known 'Croppy Boy' but it is localised to south Carlow, home of the feared Myshall Militia
Early, early last Thursday night
The Myshall cavalry gave me a fright:
In my misfortune and sad downfall
I was prisoner taken by Cornwall.
In his guardhouse there I was tried
And in his parlour my sentence tried’
My sentence passed and passed very low,
Unto Duncannon I was obliged to go.
As I was going up the mountain high
Who would blame me then for to cry?
I looked behind me, then before,
And my tender parents saw and then ne’er saw more.
When my poor parents did hear the news
They followed me with money and clothes;
Five hundred guineas they would lay down
To let me walk upon sweet Irish ground.
They guarded me through Borris town,
The bloody Orangemen did me surround.
The captain told me he’d let me free
If I would bring him one, two or three.
‘I’d rather die or be nailed to a tree
Than traitor turn to my country.
In Duncannon ‘twas my lot to die,
And in Duncannon does my body lie
And every one that does pass by prays
’ The Lord have mercy on the Roman boy.’
The Battle of Carlow
Author: Bill Nolan, Ballon
Bill looks back at the dreadful massacre in Carlow town on that fateful morning in 1798 and recognises the result of the sacrifices.
‘Tis the dewy hour of sunrise
In the glorious month of May
And the heated mist presages
Summer’s splendour thro’ the day.
Muffled, stealthy in the silence
Sounds the noise of tramping feet:
Men whose sons are free come marching
Up the narrow, gloomy street.
Do they think “What’s now the issue
Of this long-awaited day?”
Oh, the agonised emotions
Of that hour before the tea.
“Do the red-coats know we’re coming?
Are the yeomen still asleep?
All depends upon our silence
And the vigilance they keep”.
But the traitor is before them
And the swords already drawn,
And the peals of musket-thunder
Echo thro’ the reddening dawn.
Vain their rally soon ‘tis over;
In their hundreds, brave they die,
And the cabins where they shelter
Soon in blazing ruins lie.
Talk not of their dismal failure,
Mock not at their courage vain,
For today we reap the harvest
Which they sowed that here were slain.
Tales of causes lost blaze brightest
When the battle’s bravely fought;
Freedom’s jewel’s more precious
When with blood ‘tis dearly bought.
The Jolly Fox Hunters
Author: unknown
Melody: The words fit the melody of The Glendalough Saint
This was printed in Wexford in the 1860s; it was given by Paddy Berry to Tony Malone.
The piece traces the course of a fox hunt through south Carlow in 1799, while the country was still suffering reprisals after the rebellion of 1798. Sir William Burdett of Garryhill Castle was 3rd Baronet of Dunmore.
Come boys let us follow the fox
No more we’ll be called lazy grunters;
We’ll hunt him through mountains and rocks
For we are the jolly fox hunters.
We’ll rise him at six in the morn;
I’ll hold ten to one that we’ll kill him;
If Lang gives a blast to his horn
We’ll surely all follow Sir William.
The last time we met for the chase
At Kilcoltrim the ‘Babbies’ assembled;
We drew round that beautiful place,
Had sly Reynard been there he’d have trembled.
The red rogue broke Coolyhune copse:
We led off with Bowler and Jolly;
We brushed him by hills, dales and rocks
And we ran him through hazel and holly.
Of the bogs and the breaks we kept clear,
But the brooks and the banks disregarded.
Dick Lang pushed us on with each cheer:
The country all ‘round we’re sure heard it.
Poor Reynard he came to disgrace
For the ducks and the geese felt his ravage;
He ran for his life through each place
To the beautiful site of Rocksavage.
By the palace of Marley we ran,
Ballycrinigan rocks scrambled over;
Up by Knockamulgurry each man
Went as if he was going to clover.
Like aigles we rose on the hill;
All Wexford we saw underneath us,
But the rogue was in front of us still
And we hadn’t a turn to breath us.
We ran him towards the Blackstairs
Where the best horse in Europe would stumble.
Mick Sinnott with Bill Garret’s mare,
Like mountebanks down they did tumble.
Then he thought to get on to the rocks
Which before us rose up like church steeples
But we snaffled the wily old fox
Or we’d all ha’ gone home limping cripples.
Dick lang blew his horn right stout
And you’d think we were going to berrin’;
The people so crowded about
When they heard he was dead as a herrin’.
Then like hosiers we footed along,
Each sportsman had aired his red jacket;
A few of them dropped from the throng
But in Myshall they ended the racket.
A Short Cycle
Author: Roman O Deaghadh
Roman recalls the 'joy' of a cycling trip around the heart of County Carlow.
The Mountainy Farmer
Author: Tommy Lynch
Tommy printed this in The Nationalist in 1947
A picture of the harsh life of a mountain farmer
Wind of Glory
Author: Paul Kealy
Singer: Celine Byrne
Local and international event
Carlovian Paul was tasked with writing an anthem for the 50th Irish Derby; this is the result! Paul composed the lyrics, Lt Mark Armstrong the music and the anthem was performed by Celine Byrne, backed by the Millicent Singers and the No.1 Army Band. The anthem was shared with us by Ciaran Brennan, who co-writes with Paul
Two Will Do
Author: Michael Rice
Singer: Michael Rice
Location: Carlow west, Rossmore and the Ridge
Mickey gives an account of his encounter with the law after a long session in various hostelries, together with sound advice as a result of the experience!
‘Twas a Saturday in October in 1983
Just another Saturday or so it seemed to be;
But that day has made history which was very sad:
It was the day that Mickey Rice blew in the plastic bag.
It was down in Ballinabranna that we all worked hard all day,
We were getting out potatoes and drinking mugs of ‘tay’.
In the evening I cam home full of muck and clay,
Says the wife’ Now go and get a drink, it’s been a long hard day’.
So down to the grove I did go as happy as could be.
I met an old acquaintance, ‘twas Billy Motley.
Says Motley ‘have you got the car?’ I had sure as a rule.
So we sailed away to Crettyard and on to the Salmon Pool.
Now we stayed there for quite a while then we drive on to Cainesbridge;
We drank away ‘til closing time then headed for the ridge.
Coming down along the hill a light shone in the sky,
It was from a white Granada and it pulled up closely by.
Now I opened up the fly window and the guard put in his nose.
He says ‘You have drink taken, too much I suppose’.
He handed me a plastic bag, the smallest ever seen.
He says ‘Now blow in that until you turn it green’.
As you know I turned it green, he says ‘now step out, please,
You must leave your friend behind and please give me the keys’.
Says Motley ‘Don’t you worry Mick, everything will be alright’.
So they took me to Kilkenny as the stars were shining bright.
The doctor he was waiting and he read for me the rules.
He says ‘You can give me blood, or urine if you choose’.
So he handed me a bottle and I filled it to the top
And he put my name upon the cap in case it would get lost.
It was in Castlecomer court my license I did lose.
I got 12 month’s suspension for drinking too much booze.
Now I have my license back the truth I’ll tell to you:
Whenever you go drinking boys, remember TWO WILL DO!
Drowning at Doolin Bay, 1983
Recited by Lil Coleman
Theme: Local event and tragedy
The recitation recounts the awful and traumatic events when four local youths, John Murphy, and brothers James, John and Eddie Doran, along with four other youths, were drowned in Doolin Bay They were attending the Lisdoonvarna Festival on july 31st and went for a swim on a lovely sunny day, only to be taken by the sea.
Their locality, Ballymurphy, and all the surrounding areas were stunned by the enormity of the tragedy.
Hurling at Moghurry 1760
Theme: Sporting Heroes
An account, somewhat gloating, of a Wexford victory over a Carlow team in a game of hurling played in 1760!
From a book owned by Michael Morrissey, nephew of Luke Morrissey, titled 'In Praise of Heroes'.