Larry Doolan’s Christmas Adventure

Larry Doolan’s Christmas Adventure

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“LIGHT the pipe and listen Mick; I’ll tell you a strange tale,

You know yourself I never tell a lie—

It happened to myself, you see; I’d tell it word for word

To Father James if I was going to die!

Christmas last poor Peggy, God be good to her, was here;

To-night she sleeps in Leigue beneath the grass.

I said to here, “be sure, agra, and waken me in time

As I intend to go to early Mass.”

At half-past ten the family were fast asleep in bed,

I soon would follow suit, and off I’d pop.

I raked the fire, quenched the light, and said a few short prayers,

Got in, and soon was sleeping like a top—

When all at once I started up and thought I heard loud shouts—

You know I am not cowardly, but brave—

I listened in the darkness but not could catch a sound,

For all was dark and silent as the grave.

I dressed myself, put on a fire—hung the kettle on—

It soon blazed up—I heard the kettle sing,

Then took out the Western People to find out the latest news,

Began to read until the bells would ring.

I soon was interrupted by a knocking on the door,

I thought this must be an early bird,

The holy time that’s in it I must rise and let him in,

For at Christmas we must have the civil word.

I opened, stepped outside—then a shout that rent the air—

And Micky O, the sight that met my view—

The road, the path, and window stools, as far as I could see

Were packed with little men, and women too,

Dressed up in all the colours that the rainbow ever showed,

There could be seven hundred—more perhaps—

The little chaps wore riding boots, with spurs that shone like gold,

But men and women all wore scarlet caps.

One of them stepped up to me, he must have been the boss,

He wore a pair of glasses and a moustache,

The gold lace on his tunic, boy, was shining bright and new,

And at his waist a little sword and sash.

He said “old chap, we want to-night a plucky man like you,

So Mr. Doolan, you must come along with us,

We cannot do the job on hand without a living man,

So come away with us and make no fuss”.

I said, “Now, Mr. Fairy, do you think I am a fool?”—

He struck me with his sword upon the chest—

And while you’d say Jack Robinson, Oh, Mick asthore, Machree,

I was two feet high and dressed like the rest.

“Mount!” rang out in clear loud tones, and horses soon appeared—

Begorra, then, each couple maid a pair—

For every little woman sat behind her little man,

And we galloped off like demons through the air.

The captain rode beside me, and soon began to chat,

He said: “I think we picked the proper man,

And judging from experience, you suit us to a hair,

So I’ll tell you about our little plan:

You know this big Tom Mulligan—he lives in Newtownwhite—

We had a little fort upon his farm—

And there we held our meetings for eleven hundred years,

But never done him hurt or harm.

He cut down all the bushes, and destroyed out meeting hall—

The change to him won’t bring an extra bob—

We must have compensation for disturbance, don’t you see,

And make him rue the day he faced the job.

Now Mulligan’s small farm joins the big boycotted ranch—

Every beast on that to-night must lose its tail—

And patriotic Tommy—staunch supporter of the League—

Will find himself to-morrow night in jail.

And now we near journey’s end, so not a single word,

We always do our work upon the sly,

Silence is our motto, so remember what I say—

Until we meet again I’ll say good-bye”.

“Oh, mille murther, captain dear, my little tongue is out;

Is there any chance, amock,  to get a drop?”

He said: “You’ll have, when we get back Lough Melvin’s of the best—

In Carroll Bros. cellar or the shop.

We halted, all dismounted, then scattered through the field,

And men and women shouted at the fun,

Swords were drawn and tails came off, far quicker, I’ll tell you,

Than if they’d brought the saw and Peter Dunne,

The R.I.C. left watching were enjoying Christmas time—

One of them sang Lynchehaun first class—

If they chanced to leave the hut and have a look around

The tails were on and we—were blades of grass.

The bloody work being over we started home again—

They yelled and shouted hip, hip, hurrah!

When landed safe at home again the cheers that rent the air—

I thought would tumble down old Ballina.

I sat down by the fireside completely worn out,

And thought of all the strange things I had seen,

When a hand was on my shoulder—on looking up I saw

The gentlemen who dress in bottle green.

“I arrest you, Larry Doolan, on the warrant of the King,

I am sorry for your family and wife,

As you and big Tom Mulligan will cross the “Bridge of Sighs!”

For seventeen long years—perhaps for life.”

“You lie, you ugly villain, I was here all Christmas Eve,

And only for the law I’d break your nose.”

The other chap behind him drew his baton like a flash,

And struck me such a welt across the toes.

I made a rush and caught him—then I saw it was my wife—

She was dressed and looked so handsome and so neat—

She said: “You shouted villain and I turned round and saw

The kettle boiling out upon your feet.

Put on your coat and waistcoat, man, you’ll shortly hear the bell,

So hurry up and take the cup of tay,

All the neighbours have passed by and it will not look too well

 If we are late for Mass on Christmas Day”.

                                                

                                                    Larry Doolan

                                            Ballina, December 1905