The
Rose of Tralee
-----------------------
By
P. J. Clarke, Ballina
Watching the end of the Rose of Tralee
contest recently brought back some great moments in my life, and, in
particular, the excursions to continental Europe with a group of “lads” from
Castlebar, Westport and one or two other places. On these annual trips we
travelled to France, Belgium, Denmark, Sweden and Czechoslovakia. What was
great about these trips, was not alone the enjoyment of being with them but the
subsequent and enjoyable sing-song at the end of each day, and sometimes,
during the day—in particular the day we went “cruising” down the river in a
pleasure boat seeing the sights.
It was on the first of these trips to
France/Belgium to the WW1 sites that one song was sang with great gusto (which
is always sang by the Irish at the drop of a hat), was, yes, you’ve guessed it,
“The Rose of Tralee”. At the end of the song one of the lead singers, a
well-known choir man, stood up and told us that this was a World War 1 song, and
also stated that when it is sang the third verse is always left out, and
proceeded to sing it, and got a great reception for his rendition of the verse.
This moment about the verse of the song came
back to me as I listened to Mike Denver singing it at the latest Rose contest,
and, as usual, the third verse was left out, and my inquiring mind decided to
find out about this song, but especially verse number three.
The history of the song: Mary O’Connor lived
in Brogue Lane Tralee . She was
dark with large lustrous eyes. When she was seventeen she got employment in the
kitchen of the Mulchinock family, who were wealthy merchants. The family
consisted of William Pembroke, Edward and Henry and married sister, Maria.
William was the dreamer of the boys, and his usual pastime was writing poetry.
William spent some time away from home and when he returned Mary O’Connor had
been appointed the maid to Maria’s children, Anne and Margaret. When William
returned home he was introduced to Mary and as a writer described her: “he was
transfixed by her wonderful eyes, and lovely dark hair and skin so delicately
white. She was calm and self-possessed, so graceful, that all he could do was
to draw his breath in uneven gasps and stare and wonder.”
Through the following months he was always by
her side but his family disapproved of their courtship as they were staunch
members of the Protestant
Church
One evening when they were out for their usual
walk he recited for her the first two verses of a new poem he composed, after
which Mary said: “Oh William it’s the most beautiful poem I’ve ever heard in my
life”. William again asked her to marry him, to which she replied: “I’ll give
you my answer tomorrow evening.”
The next day there was a political meeting and
tempers became frayed and although William was there as one of the opposition
leaders, he took no part in the stabbing of one of the opposition and when the
stabbed man died William was held responsible, and he fled.
He made his way to India Tralee man, a Lt. Collis. William asked the commanding
officer, who was from Limerick , could he, if
ever he got back home, bring the possessions of Lt. Collis home, and was given
permission. He told his story to the commanding officer who offered to help him
settle the dispute of which he was wrongly accused of and it was through the
good offices of this officer that William was able to return home.
On the day he arrived home in early spring
1849 William alighted from his carriage and went into a local hostelry and
ordered a drink. As he was being served the drink the landlord, who was a
stranger to William, went to close the curtains. William asked him why was he
doing this the landlord told him that a funeral would soon pass by. When
William enquired who was dead he was told: “why a local girl from Brogue Lane Tralee .” (Mary died aged
29 from tuberculosis).
In his despair his friends saw to it that he
was re-acquainted with a girl he met in Ballinasloe years earlier, Alicia
Keogh. To escape the place of so many painful memories he was Alicia went to America Ireland
In
the far fields of India
Her
voice was a solace and comfort to me,
But
the chill hand of death has now rent us asunder,
I’m
lonely to-night for the Rose of Tralee .
She
was lovely and fair as the rose of the Summer,
Yet
’twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh
no, ’twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
That
made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
William spent the rest of his life in a
lodging house in Ashe Street Tralee , and on October 13th, 1864,
he breathed his last at the age of forty-four. His last wish was to be buried
in Clogherbrien graveyard beside his true love . . . Mary, the Rose of Tralee,
and it’s there he now lies.
Well this is the
official version given out by the Rose of Tralee organisers, but that’s not the
whole story. The true author of the words of the Rose of Tralee is reputed to
be by Englishman C. (or E.) Mordaunt Spencer, who was born in 1806 and died in
1863. He wrote many, many musical works. But of course the words would not mean
so much to-day had it not being for Charles William Glover who was born in 1797
and died in 1868 (a different date, 1806 – 1868, is also mentioned). It was he
who wrote the beautiful melody in 1912 and the words compliment his musical
artistry.
So altogether,
lads:
Knock, knock . .
.
Who’s there?
Asa . .
Asa who?
As a pale moon was rising . .
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