Songs of Moyvane, Market Street and Old Friends Remembered

A Corner by The River

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Shops that used to be on Market Street

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The Songs of Moyvane 

by Gabriel Fitzmaurice (1980)

From  Moyvane website

I remember as a very small boy, Tomeen the boss coming into our kitchen singing “Foley’s Jackass”. I laughed at him; he was a funny man. His songs meant nothing to me then.

Years later when I was grown up (say about ten years old!) I heard someone mention a song called “The Rose of Newtownsandes“. I always wanted to hear that song. Call it curiosity or whatever but I wanted to hear it, and in 1975 I finally tracked it down. Donie Lyons of Dromerisk (the flute player) told me of an extraordinary man, Con Greaney of Rooska who sang the song.

Having come of age on a thin diet of Planxty-like folk songs I was not prepared for what I heard. I sat on a sugán chair in Greaney’s kitchen with the microphone in my hand. Greaney exploded into song. I got such a fright that I sat bolt upright in my chair, my heart having missed a beat!

That started me on the collection of trad songs. Since then I have met many men (why must it always be men!), some of them old some middle-aged but every one of them I loved. They had an infinite quality of lovableness and innocence. Their hearts were In their songs; the great Con Greaney, my uncles Billy and Jack Cunningham, Jack McElligott of Gurtdromagowna, the inimitable Jack Carroll, Jimmy Herbert and Mickeen Fitzgerald of sweet Athea to mention but a few.

The songs of Moyvane parish (Newtownsandes as it was formerly called for love of landlords) may be broadly divided into “three categories:

(a)Sporting songs; (b) Political songs and (c) Love songs.

Moyvane has a great and varied sporting history, she has given of her young men who have graced football fields, wearing the proud Kerry jersey in three continents, poets sang their praises as they did of the great Dainty Man, a half blind hound who took Ireland’s best to the cleaners that day in Clonmel when he brought the Derby home to Moyvane.

Moyvane has strong nationalist feelings as is evidenced by the selection of political songs printed here. Remember it was in our parish that the men of “The Valley of Knockanure” were sent to their doom at an early bloom, to spotlight just one tragedy.

And then we have The Rose of Newtownsandes, the best traditional song I’ve heard in years. The air, the mystery; it’s all there. Who was she, where did she come from, what was she, why did the poet write the song? All unanswered questions because everyone has a different answer.

If there’s anyone out there who knows any song, bit of song, poem or verse about the Moyvane/Knockanure area, I would be eternally grateful if you would give them to me.

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Down Memory Lane

I took this photo in Woulfe's Bookshop during Writers' Week 2010. Then, of the three subjects, I knew only Mary Doyle. Since then I have come to know Carol Stricks. I never knew her lovely husband, Bob.

Sadly both Mary and Bob have passed away since.

A Fact, a volunteer, Bridge Road and a Sister

John Kelliher's Listowel

John Kelliher is an exceptional photographer. He captured the mood of Listowel perfectly on this St. Patrick's Day in The Square  in 2021.

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Strange but True

Today's fact for you

Having already given birth to 19 children, Emily, Duchess of Leinster (1731 to 1814) eloped with their tutor, William Oglivie, after the duke's death. She had another two children with him.

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 Dilligent Tidy Town Volunteer

In the midst of a pandemic this intrepid volunteer is still weeding and sweeping and doing his bit to keep Listowel looking its best.

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Bridge Road Through the Millennium Arch

Photo taken in 2009

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An Unexpected Response

This is the earliest photo I have of myself and my sister. I'd say she is between 2 and 3 and I'm 14 months younger.

Last week I wrote about her and particularly about the weeks prior to her death. She was in hospital a lot of the time in her last year of life and she matured a lot during that time. It was as if she experienced old age as well as childhood in those few weeks. She made friends with a lovely cohort of much older ladies and she blossomed in their company.

I knew people would be moved by Ina's story and I am grateful for the sympathetic response from blog followers and Facebook friends.

What surprised me was the number of people who contacted me to say that they remembered Ina aka Chrissy. It is now 57 years since her passing. I knew that she was fondly remembered by our family and by her ever faithful best friend, Marion, but many other people remember her too and the tragedy of her untimely passing.  

The heading that I put on last week's piece was a line from Thomas Moore's Believe me if all those endearing young charms...   "The heart that has truly loved never forgets'. 

How apt it was.

 

Old Coins, A Proud son of Kerry, a Happy Day in Listowel in 2009 and a Shout Out to Blog Followers Living Abroad

 Sheep in Firies

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Our Beautiful Old Coins

Here are some of our beautiful old coins which were replaced by the uniform european ones. Will we see the demise of coin in our lifetime?

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Remembering a Very Proud Kerryman

From Moyvane website  by Eileen McElligott

Maurice O’Connell was born at Glin Road, Moyvane in May 1936. His parents, Thomas and Mary (nee McMahon) O’Connell were both Principal Teachers in the local National School. Maurice must have been a very welcome addition to their family of six daughters! Another son, Thomas, followed later but died in infancy, and another daughter, Anna.

Following in the footsteps of his father and uncles, Maurice commenced his secondary education in St. Michael’s College, Listowel of which his grandfather, also Maurice O’Connell, was a co-founder and a brilliant Classics master for fifty years.

After a remarkable Intermediate Certificate in which he got first place in Ireland in Greek, he studied in St. Brendan’s Seminary, Killarney where he was also an outstanding student having got an illustrious result in his Leaving Certificate at sixteen years of age. He then went to Maynooth Ecclesiastical College and after three years he commenced a teaching career in Dublin, completed his M.A. in classics and subsequently taught in the International College in St. Gallen before returning to Dublin to embark on a Civil Service career. He was appointed Administrative Officer in the Department of Finance, and later Second Secretary in the same Department before his appointment as Governor of the Central Bank in 1994.

Married to Dubliner Marjorie Treacy, they have four adult children. Their sons Thomas and Martin, like five of Maurice’s nephews, chose the medical profession, while his two daughters Catherine and Marjorie is working on a Master’s degree.

Though he has traveled widely in Europe and beyond in the course of his career and has conferred with Princes and Prime Ministers, his family, his staff and the people of Moyvane – and his Glin Road neighbours in particular – come first.

Asked in a newspaper interview where his favourite place was, he simply replied “Kerry!”. 

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Listowel was a Different Place in 2009

This photo was taken on the Monday after the All Ireland Football Final 2009. We have just enjoyed a great race week and Kerry has just won the football. Jerry Ryan is doing his best to clear up after all the celebrations.

These times will come again.

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A Project for you (And time is running out)

This project is tailor made for some of you, my loyal blog followers. 

You can make the video on your phone.

Here is the message from Listowel Community and Business Alliance

Are you from Listowel Living abroad?
We’re working on a new project and need your help!
PM us or email us at info@listowelalliance.ie before April 1

Remembering my Sister

November Walk

 Mallow Camera Club;  Grade 1. Third Place. Ann O' Mara.

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"The heart that has truly loved  never forgets"

This is the last photo of my only sister. She was Nora Christina Ahern, called Ina at home and Chrissy in school.

This photo was taken in Mallow Hospital. She had put on the jumper over her nightdress so she would look "dressed".

She is not smiling because it is a passport photo. Indeed she has little reason to smile anyway because she is very ill.

It is  March 1964. She is 15 years old. A month later on April 10th she passed away. She never got to Lourdes so the passport was never needed after all.

In this photo, Ina is wearing a yellow jumper she knitted herself. Because she was 15 she was too old for the children's ward so she was in a ward with all the old women. They were lovely to her and she became one of them. Their pursuits became her pursuits. She knit with their encouragement and she joined in the exchange of patterns. She read Ireland's Own and discussed the latest adventures of Kitty the Hare. Best of all she prayed with them. Every evening the women of the ward took out their rosary beads and said the family rosary. Ina, who, before her illness, had been a bit of a tearaway, fell into line with her new friends. She took consolation and support from the communal prayers. She knew that many of the older ladies were praying for a peaceful death for themselves and for each other. They desperately wanted their youngest patient to get better.

I know now what I didn't know then. Ina was never going to get better. She was in the departure lounge too.

I think of my sister often, especially at this time of her anniversary. She is part of everything I do. Today she is part of my blog.

Through the years;

Aged 4 and 5

Aged 13 and 14 on our Confirmation day

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Another local phrase remembered

Mary, I like to phrase 'out beside it.'  In South Meath, we say, 'You're out by the side of it' when we point out to someone  that they are wrong or mistaken about something. One memorable instance of this was when a school-mate of mine, having had a few clips about the ear from the Master, retorted: 'If you think you can 'bate' me like that, you are out by the side of it!' Well, he would have been if it had happened these days... Nicholas L.

Cycling, Market Street and a New Book to Look Forward To

Helping Hand

 Mallow Camera Club;  Jim McSweeney

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Market Street Listowel, March 2021

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A  Book to look forward to

BOOK ANNOUNCEMENT - COMING SOON

Charlotte & Arthur by Pauline Clooney, October 2021

This work of historical fiction tells the story of Charlotte Brontë's marriage to Irish curate Arthur Bell Nicholls. The book takes place in a last year of Charlotte's life as the unlikely couple set off on their honeymoon to Ireland. Set against the backdrop of the recent famine, their tour exposes the contrasting lives of the poor and the privileged of Irish society.

Available to pre-order at merdogbooks.com/product/charlotte-arthur/

Spoiler alert: Charlotte and Arthur took in Listowel in their Irish honeymoon.

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Official Opening at Presentation Secondary School

This photograph was taken at the official opening of the extension to the school.

Left to Right; Fr. O'Mahoney, Bishop Diarmuid OSuilleabháin, Jimmy Deenihan, ? maybe Minister for Education, Dick Spring, Sr. Sheila, Fr. Clifford and Sr. Eileen

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Strange But True

Ireland's rarest fish is the Goureen, or Killarney Shad. It is found in Lough Leanne, Killarney and nowhere else in the world.

Source; Foster's Irish Oddities, Allen Foster

St. Mary's in Green, Some Jokes and Some Listowel People Remembered

Heron

Mallow Camera Club;  Eamon O' Donnell

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St. Mary's Listowel goes Green

Our Church on St. Patrick's Day 2021

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Remembering the Old Stock

This photo brought back memories for Billy McSweeney. Billy wrote;

Hi Mary,

I remember Tasty Cotter well and I also remember the man in the photo 
looking back over his right shoulder as Gerald McElligott, the Listowel 
Arms Hotel owner.

I hope you washed all the green paint from St Patrick off! Our 
children's joke was that you had to go to the Sluagh Hall the day before 
to get your behind painted green

Billy McSweeney

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Some Funnies

Vincent Doyle sent us these to help us raise a smile in these unsmiling times.

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Sweep Ticket from 1960

Photo from Glin Historical Society on Facebook

An Aga Cookbook, some Caring Cork Posters and an old Lartigue video

Boy with a Hen

Mallow Camera club,   John Hooton.

>>>>>>>> 

An Old Cookbook

Cookbooks lend a great insight into how we used to eat. I unearthed this old gem at the back of a cupboard. It used to belong to my beloved Aunty Eily. The cookbook came with her first electric cooker, which she cared for with such loving reverence that she still had it in working order until her death.

The heating controls on this cooker had three settings ; low, medium and high.

The date on the cook book is 1956.

Forcemeat is an old word for stuffing. I looked it up.

a gill is a quarter of a pint.

This recipe is an ancient one and famously in the 18th century began with the instruction, First, catch your hare.

(Another old cookery book, in giving directions for a particular kind of pudding, begins thus, Take your maid and send her for a peck of flour. )

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Some Cork Photos

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Lartigue 1920's

Precious media sent to us by Danny McDonnell

Christmas cards and March Hares

Foxgloves at Slea Head 

Mallow Camera Club;  John Hooton.

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The March Hare

Have you heard the expression, mad as a March hare? Of course the hares aren't mad at all just a bit frisky this time of year.

For my last birthday I got a present of this lovely book.

It has a little bit about Nature for everyday of the year. Here's what it says about the March hare.

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Shopping in a Pandemic

I have very few outings nowadays and when I do get out it's only on essential business. Last week my outing was to the pharmacy for my medication. There I was, socially distanced, waiting to be served, when what did I spy but bargain basement Christmas cards. 

I am living proof that a bargain is something you don't need at a price you can't resist. 

Christmas cards in March! Only a dedicated bargain hunter, starved of all my usual charity shop fixes would fall for that one.

Problem now is, will I remember where I put them next Christmas?

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Getting Ready for Reopening

The newest barber's shop on Church Street has their new sign up in time for reopening.

Some Old St. Patrick's Day Photos

Eagle's Head

Mallow Camera Club;   Grade 2 First Place. Kieran Cogan.

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Remembering how St. Patrick's Day used to be

All of the following photos  of Listowel parades have appeared in Listowel Connection in years gone by.

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Saint Patrick’s Days of Yore.

By Mattie Lennon. 

   Saint Patrick was a gentleman, he came from decent people,

In Dublin town he built a church and on it put a steeple

His father was a Callahan, his mother was a Grady,

His aunt was  an O'Shaughnessy and uncle he was Brady.

 So says Christy Moore.

       At this time of year my mind always flies back to the 5^th century.  And to my own native heath of West Wicklow. You see, according to one legend, our area was Christianised before Saint Patrick; we were converted by Palladius.  (One local wag said that we were Christianised sometime B.C.)

      Other historians  claim  that Palladius was repulsed by the inhabitants of Wicklow, where he landed. ...    One way or the other it’s generally accepted that Naomh Padraig didn’t set foot in our neck of the woods.

But the late Jimmy Freeman of Ballyknockan, had a more down to earth explanation. He told me, and I quote, “Saint Patrick stood at Burgage an’ he come no farther. An’ he pointed his staff up at Lacken, Kylebeg an’ Ballinastockan an’ he sed ‘Let that be a den of thieves an’ robbers forever more’ .

    I didn’t know what to make of it. I  thought, perhaps,  he was indulging in a bit of, good-natured, inter-Townland rivalry.  Being well aware of the God-fearing and law-abiding nature of the inhabitants of the places in question it looked like our National Apostle was out beside it. Oh, sure enough, a Ballinastockan man was once fined sixpence for riding an unlit bicycle in Blessington during the hours of darkness. And it was rumoured that (before my time) a farmer on the Kylebeg/Lacken border was prosecuted under the 1910 Noxious Weeds Act, but nothing serious.     You see, as a community we were always as honest as hard times would would.  But the inhabitants or more progressive areas used to say that we only knew that Christmas was over when we saw people wearing shamrock.    We know that Saint Patrick is buried in Downpatrick, Having died at Nearby Saul in 561. March 17th is the supposed date of his death. We can’t check. RIP.IE doesn’t go back that far.  He was born in 486 and journalist, Billy Keane, has done a lot of genealogical research but failed to find any evidence of an exact date for the saint’s birth.  Consequently Billy suggests that his feast day (Saint Patrick’s not Billy’s) should be moved to September.      

       Any date in September  save 19^th to 25th inclusive. Because that would clash with Listowel races.   However it looks like we will be stuck with the current date for the foreseeable future.  Of course the nostalgia associated with our National holiday varies from person to person.  As children if we were abstaining from penny toffees and Fizz bags for Lent there was an exemption on Saint Patrick’s Day.  Adults off the booze and /or the fags got a one day reprieve.     Retailers have always loved it. Even the most humble huckster’s emporiums look like Carroll’s souvenir shops there’s so much green. You see, psychologists have established that green is the easiest colour on human vision, projecting a relaxed image and environment; it indicates a friendly approach and prompts shoppers to buy.    For my own part my olfactory sense goes back ever the decades whenever my nostrils detect the exhaust fumes   however tentative   given off by a forty to one fuel mix. Immediately I am back on any Saint Patrick’s Day in the 1950s When Ireland’s top scramblers are negotiating rough terrain at Templeboden Bridge.  Despite  muck-splattered helmets and goggles older spectators were able to point out to us  some of the all time greats .  Harry Lynsdsney, Ernie Lyons and Stanley Woods, Harry Lambert et al. And, , in my minds ear I can hear the frantic revving of Nortons, BSAs and Bultaco  bikes  as the aforementioned and  competitors from all over this island would halt for a time-check.       In 2001 in the bitter New York wind I marched up Fifth Avenue as part of the Saint Patrick’s Day parade. It was my first visit to the Big Apple. I still have the costume  that I wore that day ****  Saint Patrick’s name features in everything from Cathedrals to football clubs to middle names taken at Confirmation.  And  . . .   in  1757 the owners of Rowes Distillery, in Thomas Street, Dublin built the highest  smock windmill in Europe on their 17 acre site, to power their  distillery.    The  tower  still stands to this day. Because of the shape of its dome it has been known to generations of Dubliners as “The Onion Tower”  but its official name is Saint Patrick’s Tower  but . . . did Saint Patrick turn back at Burgage? The jury is still out.  Perhaps in the future through carbon dating, DNA of some other science yet unknown, Jimmy Freeman will be proved wrong . . . or right.