Jim Nolan
Author: John Candy
Performed by John Candy
John wrote this eulogy about a great local, and national, character, Jim Nolan of Ballinrush, Myshall, County Carlow.
The roll is called, Big Jim is gone, his voice we’ll hear no more,
But his name is etched forever on the pages of folklore.
For those who knew this gentle giant, he was an easy friend to love
And on Good Friday evening Jim was called to Heaven above.
As day broke over Myshall the sad news quickly spread
That Jim Nolan he had passed away and a thousand tears were shed.
The supreme storyteller, he was known both far and wide
And Carlow lost a legend the day Jim Nolan died.
Jim was born in October Nineteen Twenty Two,
The year Ireland gained its freedom, with Michael collins and his cfrew.
Now Jim grew up in Myshall and as he reached a certain age
His talents they were plain to see and he was lured on to the stage.
As an actor he was brilliant and his stories they did flow,
He even featured on RTE with Gay Byrne on the Late Late Show.
Jim lived and farmed in Ballinrush the place where he grew up,
There he wrote about the young man who was ‘The real sure sign of a Pup’!
He told us about Binty McGuire, who was tied down when he was dead,
When someone cut the rope at his wake and binty shot up in the bed.
Ah yes, his stories they were magic, they were better than vintage wine
To hear Jim and his sister Bridie declare that they would ‘sign on the dotted line’.
Now, Jim Nolan was a gentleman, we will all agree on that,
With his big broad smile, his walking cane, his pipe and his auld hat.
He could brighten up any story house whether in sunshine or in rain
And, believe me, we will never see the likes of Jim again.
So, Big Jim, we will remember you, as the years go rolling by
For the pleasure that you gave us Jim, your name will never die.
And as we gaze on your beloved Mt. Leinster with its heather, gorse and bush
May you rest in peace forever, Big Jim from Ballinrush.
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 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.
Red, Yellow and Green
Melody: Unknown
Author : Unknown
The song was provided by Maureen Agars
The persona remembers, with fond nostalgia, places and activities of youth.
THE RED, YELLOW AND GREEN
A cock crows, a daffodil grows,
Another dew glazed morn;
A church bell rings, a blackbird sings,
A Carlow emigrant is born.
With footsteps of a child, I leave my home behind,
Nastled in Mount Leinster standing tall.
It’s a sign of the times, my friends I have no choice
But to answer this hope giving call.
CHORUS
Follow me to wear the red yellow and green
Far over the sea.
Follow me and by god make sure you’re seen
Where your heart’s lying somewhere in between
The red, yellow and green.
Bright lights and crowds surround me now:
From Garryhill, a far, far cry,
But one flash in time, the river Burrin is mine
Where I went fishing as a child.
As it flows peacefully through priceless scenery
No foreign sights compare;
It’s a sign of the times, a memory in my mind;
Here I am living on a prayer.
CHORUS
My Hero of Bonny Carlow
Singer: Tony Malone
The love song gives an account of the press-gang kidnapping of the girls lover as they strolled along the Barrow
Battle of Kilcumney
Singer: Tony Malone
Battle of Kilcumney / Teresa Malone
It was in the year of ’98, a time of blood and woe,
When many a Saxon soldier fled ’neath the rebels’ vengeful blow,
When British troops before them flew like chaff before the gale
When they heard the dreadful war cry of the sons of Graine Mhaol.
The Summer’s sun was shining bright, a lovely afternoon,
Like burnished gold it glistened on each helmeted dragoon.
Nine mounted English soldiers stopped outside John Murphy’s gate,
They burst the wicket open, no answer would they wait.
Four were posted outside, the other five within,
With short delay and hellish work, the fiends did begin.
They heeded not the women’s’ cry but struck a ready match
And soon the blazes mounted high o’er rafter, beam, and thatch.
Grimly smiled the bloodhounds, on each bearded face a grin,
Little thinking of the vengeful foe that lay concealed within.
Four of the bravest rebels who were in the fray that day
Sought shelter in the barn and lay hid beneath the hay.
Said the leader of those Wexford boys as he peeped out through the door,
‘Nine English soldiers are without, within we’re only four,
But many the time we beat them when outnumbered one to two,
Another blow for Ireland,’ and the door they burst in two.
Five horses without riders soon prancing in the yard,
Four beneath the whip and cord were flying fast and hard
To seek the shelter of the camp on yonder hill below,
No head was turned to see if come pike man quick or slow.
Till a maiden from a house she came, her hair was raven black,
Picked a trooper’s pistol, jumped on a horse’s back
And as fast as any racehorse or a jockey ever rode
She spurred the noble charger down the Ballyellen road
Until she came close to a stream that ripples by the mill,
Turning around she saw quite close beside her on the hill
One of those English soldiers and he called on her to stand:
She gave him ready answer from the pistol in her hand.
Dashed she then o’er ditch and dyke until she reached the heights
Where the rebels’ silent watch fire was burning through the night.
From yon green woods and ivy towers in fright the birds had flown
When they heard the cheers that greeted Teresa Malone.
She is buried ‘neath the green sod in Ballinkillen Chapel yard.
She saw the dawning of the day that nothing can retard.
She lived till old and passed away, God rest her soul I pray.
We have maidens still like her, thank God, and plenty here today.
The song captures the violence and the heroism of a young woman during one of the battles of 1798
Tribute to Paddy Quirke
Author: Sean Keogh
Paddy Quirke, of Naomh Eoin, Myshall was one of the greatest hurlers and footballers of his generation. Club Chairman, Sean Keogh, wrote this tribute to Paddy.
My Dear Native Land Far Away
Singer: Pat Curran
An emigrant remembers times past in his native place
By the setting of the sun as my daily work was done and I wandered my way down the shore
As I went on alone I sat down upon a stone for to gaze on the work of the Lord.
I have travelled all around through city, state and town but no landscape can I portray
Like the mountains and the groves where the clear waters flow: ah but why did I leave you behind?
It was England’s cruel laws, yes it was the very cause and her offspring I do intend to slay.
Oh May I live to see Home Rule and liberty in my dear native land far away.
Her anthems and her songs and her cruel, cruel wrongs they have brought me to my memory full soon.
The green fields that I love and the pathways I have roved by the clear, silvery light of the moon.
By the solitary tale that I oft times did retell as I rowed o’er the billows on the bay,
In dreams I brought to mind all the scenes I left behind in my dear native land far away.
Oh dear and sainted isle I am from thee many a mile; a stranger I wandered from thee,
From my parents and my friends, my love to them I’ll send in hopes that I may yet them see.
And if ever I go home ‘tis no more from thee I’ll roam till my body finds a prison in the clay,
And my bones they will lie low in Saint Mullins down below in my dear native land far away.
Rose of Rahanna
Author: John O'Reilly
Singer: Nancy Shiel
Second singer: John O'Reilly
Third Singer: Fiach Moriarty
Air: Lovely Derry on the Banks of the Foyle
Theme: Love
Nancy Sheil supplied this song, written by John O'Reilly from near Arklow, County Wicklow, about a lovestruck young man who had to leave his love to earn his fortune before returning to marry her.
The second version is sung by the author, John O'Reilly.
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.