arose
On the treacherous waves of Loughmuck.
The storm came on with thunder and lightning
And the big waves lashed mountains high
Our ship was tossed hither and thither
Then black darkness came over the sky.
The passengers shrieked out in terror
As our ship Aughadulla rock struck,
Me and Andy was all that was saved from the wreck
On the treacherous waves of Loughmuck.
People talk of the great Loch Ness monster
And to see it they come young and old
But the monsters we saw that wild evenin’
Leave the Loch Ness boy out in the cold.
Sharks, sea-lions, whales, alligators
With mouths that could swallow a truck
Oh the sights that we saw as we waited for death
On the treacherous waves of Loughmuck.
There we were like two Robinson Crusoes
Miles away from Fireagh Orange Hall
Though we starved on that rock for a fortnight
Not a ship ever came within call.
At last we decided to swim it
Though we don’t like to brag of our pluck
After swimmin’ for two days we reached Creevan Bay
On the treacherous waves of Loughmuck.
There we lay on that beach quite exhausted
Till a man with a big dog drew near
He shouted out, ‘Hi, clear away out of that.
’Faith I want no drunk Omey boys here!’
He said we’d been drinkin’ and sleepin’
Since the clock in his parlour four struck
And that was the end of our ill-fated cruise
On the treacherous waves of Loughmuck.
It has just occurred to me that I may have taken on an impossible task: to move round Ireland to the ultimate goal of Tyrrellspass, and to move in an orderly way, remembering and reciting as I go. That thought comes as I struggle with the following odd and informative verses, presented to me about thirty years ago when I was writing a newspaper column. I had mentioned the love that Mayo people have for their own placenames, as in the song:
Ballina, Ballinrobe, Baal and Bohola,
Newport, and Foxford a few miles below.
Then on to Inishteague and down to Manulla,
You’ll always find true friends in the County Mayo …
And I wondered if, in that respect, Mayo people surpassed those of any other Irish county. A friend of mine, a Dublinman, suggested that I set up an inter-county competition in place-name balladry and have broadcast, to encourage the competitors, Father James B. Dollard’s ‘Song of the Little Villages’. Here are some of the verses:
The pleasant little villages that grace the Irish Glyns,
Down among the wheat-fields, up among the whins,
The little white-walled villages crowding close together,
Clinging to the old sod in spite of wind and weather:
Ballytarsney, Ballymore, Ballyboden, Boyle,
Ballingarry, Ballymagorry by the banks of Foyle,
Ballylaneen, Ballyporeen, Bansha, Ballisodare,
Ballybrack, Ballinalack, Barna, Ballyclare.
The cosy little villages that shelter from the mist
Where the great Western Walls by ocean spray are kissed.
The happy little villages that cuddle in the sun
When blackberries ripen and the harvest work is done.
Corrymèela, Croaghnakeela, Clogher, Cahirciveen,
Cappagharne, Carrigaloe, Cashel and Coosheen,
Castlefin and Carrigtwohill, Crumlin, Clara, Clane,
Carrigaholt, Carrigaline, Cloughjordan and Coolrain.
The dreamy little villages where, by the fire at night,
Old Shanachies, with ghostly tales, the boldest hearts affright.
The crooning of the wind-blast in the wailing banshee’s cry,
And when the silver hazels stir they say the fairies sigh.
Kilfenora, Kilfinane, Kinnitty, Killylea,
Kilmoganny, Kiltimagh, Kilronan and Kilrea,
Killeshandra, Kilmacow, Killiney, Kilashee,
Killenaule, Kilmyshall, Killorglin and Killeagh.
Leave the little villages, over the black seas go,
Learn the stranger’s welcome, learn the exile’s woe.
Leave the little villages but think not to forget,
Afar they’ll rise before your eyes to rack your bosoms yet.
Moneymore, Moneygall and Moyne,
Mullinahone, Mullinavat, Mullagh and Mooncoin,
Shanagolden, Shanballymore, Stranorlar and Slane,
Toberheena,