Words of Praise

Words of Praise

By P. J. Clarke, Ballina, Co. Mayo

  “Sweet Glenree it is to me the loveliest of all my travels o’er—

   Killarney lakes, Bundoran, or all around old Erin’s shore”.

                                     

                                                           John T. Moran, Glenree, Bonniconlon.

  An excerpt from “Sweet Glenree”, published by Canon Greer, in his book “The Windings of the Moy”.

  The writers of Irish songs and ballads, for the most part, use the name of a county, a person, and townlands, in their quest for a “hit” on the musical stage. To them it is most important that the words that they write rhyme with one another and that the words at the end of either the second and fourth lines, or the third and fourth lines, match up. That’s the secret. So after an inspection of which was most used in poetry and songs I have come to the conclusion that the syllables, dee, ree, gee, me, see, etc., are the most commonly used. Here are just a  few of the song titles and poems I have come across: “The Rose of Ardnaree”, “The Redhead from Ardnaree”, and others from that area; “The Turfman From Ardee”, and “The Turfman From Glenree”. I could go on and on but I want to talk about the coincidence that the turfmen from Mayo and Louth.

 

  I don’t know very much about Louth except to say that’s it’s known as the “Wee County” and from it came the late, great Dermot O’Brien. I don’t have to mention Dermot’s history on the football field or the stage because it is well documented. Being a part-time musician myself at one time I came to know him and his band during the showband era. We had a couple of run-ins: one over the missing leads from the Benson to the voice amplifier (that’s another story, and a sorry episode on one’s character when you try to put down a fellow musician); also that I did not mention him to welcome him up to the stage for his performance in that great musical palace, O’Hara’s of Foxford. Here I proved that it was his drummer Johnny who was at fault and I would say that it wouldn’t be a nice journey home in the O’Brien bandwagon!

  I’ll never forget playing relief to Dermot and his band at a marquee in Ballina during this great era, and Dermot was after realising a dream that every musician wishes for – that is to have a number one in the musical charts. Dermot achieved this with “The Merry Ploughboy”, which went straight into the No. 1 slot --a feat only realised by the Beatles and Elvis Presley.

 

  The Tom Kelly Trio, of which I was part of, were entertaining the dancers and Dermot and the rest of the band were changing their clothes at the back of the band stage. Tom asked me what would be the next tune and without thinking I said “The Merry Ploughboy”. Tom had his mouthorgan on his holder and he pushed it up to his mouth and started to play the introduction – not a word! But as soon as the words “Well I am a merry ploughboy” . . . and the roars from the back of the stage – “that’s my song!”, cried an angry voice, followed by a few threatening expletives from the rest of the band. We carried on to the end and in no uncertain manner after the tune finished we were told to leave the stage. Poor Dermot, he didn’t like to be upstaged and I guarantee that it was not meant to demean such a fine musician. As we collected our gear at the end of the dance I got a wigging from the big “D” but I explained to him that I got married into a family that every Sunday my wife’s aunt took her sister (my mother-in-law), my future wife, and her sister and brother for a spin in her Morris minor (1961/1962/63). We usually started with the rosary (and the trimmings), and then the sing-song would start. Now guess which was the first (and last) song that was sung on that journey. Right” “not “The Merry Ploughboy”, but “Off To Dublin In the Green”. The problem with this sing-song was that, with all due respect, I was the only one to have an air for music, all the rest, who were all lovely people, were tone deaf. So from the outward journey to the inward one, all songs sung were “murdered”. I apologised to him and I think he forgave me. I was great friends with some of the others on the band, especially when Dermot got ill and couldn’t play for a while – people like Timmy Regan, Willie Treacy and Eamon Campbell. Eamon is  now with the Dubliners.

  “That was then and now is now”, said the postman from Ardnaree. To come back to the song about the turfmen I would like to mention that in 1960 a Glenree man reported the finding of a large flint slug knife to the National Museum indicating that he found it in a heap of stones on the edge of a cut-away bog near his home. An excavation by the archaeology department if U.C.D. in 1970/’71 discovered dramatic evidence of Bronze Age and earlier cultivation sealed beneath the blanket bog which developed later because of climatic deterioration and geological features. It is now believed that this was once 3,000 to 4,000 years of fertile land cultivated in fields, growing cereals to feed what appears from historical study to have been a sizeable population at the time.

  So there we have the Glenree bog from ancient times. And wherever there’s bog, there’s  . . .

 

  The Rev. Canon Greer in his beautiful book “The Windings of The Moy” that while researching the book he headed from his home in Enniscrone to Tubbercurry. To get to Bonniconlon, on the road to Tubbercurry he had to pass by the Glenree river which flows into the Brosna River in Ballina. He described the place by saying: “It is naturally a poetic land, and I did not marvel at meeting a poet amongst those with whom I got into touch and conversation. He was in working garb, being furnished with a turf spade, and bearing all tracks and traces of the turf band; but it did not take long to diagnose the man.” He was, said Canon Greer, “the poet of Glenree, Mr. John Moran”. He went  on: “He may not write laments and such things, but he has written descriptive and apropos of lovely Glenree”. He spent a time with John, and according to Liam Gillard, John Moran’s grandson, his grandfather recited many poems to Canon Greer, including the lovely poem, “Sweet Glenree”, which is included in the book. John Moran was born in 1870 and died in 1960, and had many of his poems published in the local paper, “The Western People”, and also “Ireland’s Own”. The poem “The Turfman From Glenree”, according to Liam, was written about the year 1908. Liam told me that his grandfather had been contacted by someone for permission to change some of the words of the poem  and that he gave permission to do so. After the changes were made “The Turfman From Glenree” became “The Turfman From Ardee” and the rest is history.

  The Bonniconlon area turned out many great poets, among them, Michael Joe Ruane, whose pen churned out poems week after week in the “Western People”. Also mentioned in this company was a Michael Cowley. An old lady by the name of Annie Kate Murray, Bonniconlon, is also a great writer of poetry.

  Before I finish writing about this historic place comes one of the most poignant stories of the First World War. The four Murray brothers, John, Martin, Thomas and Michael, sons of John and Sarah Murray, Glenree, Bonnicolon, gave up their lives in this great conflict.

   John Moran’s grandson, Liam Gillard and his family are the descendants of a French 1798 French soldier who was left behind in the march to Ballinamuck, and this area also has its world-wide known musicians that form the Bofield Ceili Band.

 Another connection with Co. Louth is the name O’Dowda. In the grounds of Kilgarvan graveyard lies the remains of the famous O’Dowda who ruled parts of Tireragh in bygone years, and whose castle was in Enniscrone, Co. Sligo, and in Dundalk was born singer, Brendan O’Dowda, that fabulous singer, who enthralled and entertained people across the world with his wonderful tenor voice.

  So the connection between Glenree and Ardee continues on. What the future holds is anyone’s guess but if it is as cultured as the past then we can rest easy.