Favourite Song or Tune Associated With Your County?

[laoislad]

Portlaoise Gaol
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzXbfTnckUQ

Portlaoise Town
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsXAy_3_WIY

[laoislad]

The Old Man's Wish

I was walking to the airport with my suitcase and my bags
When an old old man approached me and his clothes were all in rags
Every footstep was an effort there was anguish in his speech
He said Colleen forgive me asking do you come from County Laois
Well I could not help but wonder as he did his best to talk
How he ended up so broken in the subways of New York

Then I heard my flight announcement but me before I went my way
He said Colleen do me a favor when you get back home today
Will you give my love to Emo and the tears rolled down his face
Will you make a wish for me beside the Rock of Dunamace
Will you smile on Ballybrittas and just tell her it's from me
And will you light a little candle in the Church in Clonaslee.

As the jet plane soared to Ireland He kept coming to my mind
I could see his tragic features as I left him far behind
I just couldn't bear to tell him that I am not from Laois at all
That I come from near Bundoran in the County Donegal
Well I suppose you say I'm foolish and who knows perhaps I am
But I know I had to grant that wish to that old old broken man

As the sun set over Ireland I was on my way to Laois
I could see his troubled features I could hear his voice beseech
So I gave his love to Emo as I thought of his sad face
And I made a wish for him beside the Rock at Dunamase
And I smiled on Ballybrittas just like he asked of me
And then I lit his little candle in the Church at Clonaslee

Well three years went by or maybe four I soon forgot it all
I settled down and married in my native Donegal
Then one night as I was walking home this brilliant light appeared
And in it stood the old old man he smiled and said don't fear

He said I've come to thank you and his face was all aglow
And then my mind flew back to County Laois it seemed so long ago
And suddenly he disappeared but I felt ah that strangers peace
For I knew that God had called him home to Heaven and to Laois.

He said give my love to Emo and the light shone round his face
And make a wish for me beside the Rock of Dunamase
Please smile on Ballybrittas and just tell her its from me
And will you light a little candle in the Church at Clonaslee

[screenexile]

The Ballad of Hudy McGuigan (The first man who ever flew) - James McEldowney

When I was young I went to school, in a wee place called Tirkane,
Where they toul me that Davinci designed the aeroplane...
And me' history book said Orville, and the brother Wilbur Wright,
Their names were on the page, as the pioneers of flight...

But in last week's Ireland's Own, they said that wasn't true,
And 'twas a man from county Derry, was the first man ever flew,
His name was Hudy McGuigan, and he cam from Ballinascreen,
And to rise up like a bird, was Hudy's life long dream.

For when the other wanes were playing, on the ropes and on their swings,
Wee Hudy, he'd be praying to God, to give him wings...
And when they went a huntin' for the rabbit and the fox,
He'd be up around the mountain, talkin' to the hawks.

But when he toul them of his plan, the neighbours laughed out loud,
They said he was an eejit, and his head was in the clouds,
And the wife she was affronted, and she was sittin' in the draught,
And there was dung around the flure, and she was always givin' aff.

Fro the hens were in the cottage, at the fire getting 'warmed,
For Hudy had the two half dures, wan strapped til every arm,
him headin' for the doughal, the rooster roared and screamed,
As civil aviation was born in Ballinascreen.

Now the first flight it was short, for he forgot to flap,
He went flyin' past the cart, and hit the byre wall a slap,
But after a fit o' cursin', he straightened up the back,
And out came the wooden feathers , as he headed for the stack.

Like Icarus the Greek, he was destined for the sun,
But his legs were getting' wake, for the dures they weighed a tonne,
And the second flight was shorter, he was like a wounded sparra'
And the sow went runnin' squealin' as he collided with the barra.

But when he got the aff the crutches, all warnings were ignored,
And Hudy tuk his flying dream, back to the drawin' board,
And as the candle, it got duller, his ideas they got brighter,
The weight was in the wood, he needed somethin' lighter.

So he bought a pile o' geese and ducks and drakes in Draperstown,
And every time they lost a feather, sure it never hit the ground,
He was that determined, to better his design,
The farmyard, it was shinin', not a stick nor twig nor twine...

But the wife was still complainin' of her neck and of her head,
For Hudy had the pillas stripped aff the iron bed,
And he was robbin robin's nests, and all the feathers he could get,
And the hay was lyin' rotten and the farm goin' into debt.

As he fiddled and he futtured, and he hammered and he nailed,,
In the stable, on a table, he made himself a tail...
He shaped it like a fan, it was light, but it was strong ...
Twas six or seven fut in length, and as broad as it was long.

And the country people gathered, from Moneyneenagh to the plum,
As Hudy tuk his tail, and tied it to his bum,
Wi' a lovely pair o' wings, for the half dures they were cracked
Now the wife was standin' cryin' "Hudy, when will you be back?"

Now the rooster didn't know him, he was feathered and he was tarred,
He was like a bloody peacock, struttin' roun' the yard...
But the neighbours now luked up to him, to the steps beside the barn,
As he viewed the lovely Sperrins, from Slieve Gallion to the Carn..

And he gave the tail a wag, as he bended at the knees,
Then liftin' up his wings, he waited for the breeze...
And be God, this time he flew, he went floatin' through the air,
Flutterin' like a butterfly, dartin' here and there...

Swoopin' like a swalla' and sweepin' like a swift,
But the thorns were comin' closer, and he hadn't got the lift...
But Hudy was delighted, awe, he was on a high,
When they dragged him from the holly bush,
"DIDN'T I TELL YOUSE I COULD FLY!"

Now that was years and years ago, but twas never written down,
But Hudy, he's our hero, here in Draperstown...
And that's why we drink so much, for we're still in celebration
Of his humble contribution to modern aviation.

So when next you're on a plane, and they smile like Mr Sheen,
Tell them painted ladies, about the man from Ballinascreen...
And tell the pilot too, before he touches down,
If it wasn't for Hudy McGuigan, they'd never get aff the ground!!

[Oraisteach]

Feckitt,  if by "lethal" you mean really good, then you're dead on.  Al O'Donnell is maybe my favourite folk singer.  His first album is terrific, or at least it was until I left it out of its sleeve and the sun melted it.  I've been searching for it ever since.  Once I bid on it on ebay but was outbid by some hallion.  I was stunned that someone else knew of him.  You should definitely hear his renditions of "Matt Hyland" and "Ned of the Hill" or, on a county-related theme, "The Streets of Derry."  And, Shane, I'm truly thankful that you excavated that ITMA site.  I've always enjoyed listening to kitchen-table recordings, but have to admit surprise that someone wrote a song about Sion Mills. I used to enjoy listening to Keady's own Sarah Makem who had a huge repertoire of old songs.  But f I were a transblackwaterite, I'd go for "The Mountains of Pomeroy" but always seem to have a hard time finding a recording of it that I like.  And, laoislad, "The March of the King of Laois" is a gem.  I suppose any tune dedicated to Ciaran McKeever can't be half bad.

[ONeill]

My name is Pat McFadden

Oh my name's Pat McFadden a plain Irish fellow
I play the part of a man wherever I go
My parents were poor but they reared me up honest
On a wee patch of land near the town of Dungloe

But I made up my mind that I'd leave them and hire
And work for high wages like any young man
With my bundle hog tied up under my arm
Set out for the holiday fair in Strabane

When I got to Strabane of course I was a stranger
Not one in the village did I know there
A wheen of boys at the corner to take a hand at me
Saying there's welcome on you this day to the fair

Says I may my proud fellows give me none of your chin wag
For my name it was paid for before I left home
My name it is Paddy I'll never deny it
I'm the best Irishman ever stood in Tyrone

These words I said to them at them hurt their feelings
With eyes like balls of fire at me they did stare
Saying you old heather picker we'll make you go quicker
We'll make you rue the day you came here to the fair

With your old fashioned hat and your corduroy trousers
And your old flannel jacket long since it was new
For if you were at home toasting spuds in the ashes
'Twould be the right place for a boy now like you

Well although these are ugly and a bit out of fashion
I'm sure they were paid for before I left home
When the bill of dress may be found in your pocket
And you still had to pay if the truth was but known

And another thing too that I might as well mention
The boys from the mountain are always well fed
They're not like the scrubs that are reared in Strabane
On a cup of stewed tae and a crust of dry bread

And before I knew sure the biggest amongst them
Ran out and stuck his big fist in my face
Saying you old mountain ranger although you're a stranger
Do you know that I'm the best man in the place

I don't want to fight I came here for to hire
You insulted me first at the fair here today
But if I had to fight I'm not feared for to try it
If there's anyone here that'll show me fair play

Well the skite he made at me I'll never forget it
He was fully determined just to knock me dead
But I guarded him off and me being left handed
I hit him a poke sent him over his head

And then he arose in such a fury
And he swore that he'd kill me dead right on the spot
But I ducked him again before he could stop it
With my big left hand give one more shot

This time I knocked him right through Snodgrass's window
And long did he lie there before he could rise
All the boys gathered round and they sent for the doctor
Got him out to the air before he would die

I stood there awhile till he was up and got better
We shook hands and made friends and that ended it all
But from that day till this all the boys from Tyrone
Respect the men from the mountains of old Donegal

[redcard]

There's no Sam Maguire in tyrone
There's no Sam Maguire in tyrone.........

Haven't heard it since 2003 though

[theticklemister]

There's no Sam Maguire in tyrone
There's no Sam Maguire in tyrone.........

Haven't heard it since 2003 though

Use to be a regular song of mine which I used to pick from the repertoire prior to 2003 at matches.

Our only comeback for

'There's no Londonderry in Tyrone!'

[Farrandeelin]

My favourite Mayo one.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7ty5mMt_m8

[Oraisteach]

Great song, Farrandeelin.  You know that Clare had a brother who, like his father, was also called Mickey, but he was more commonly known as Morris minor.

[DrinkingHarp]

Cook 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51yekDbb3kA

[screenexile]

There's no Sam Maguire in tyrone
There's no Sam Maguire in tyrone.........

Haven't heard it since 2003 though

Use to be a regular song of mine which I used to pick from the repertoire prior to 2003 at matches.

Our only comeback for

'There's no Londonderry in Tyrone!'

'There's no A&E in Tyrone!!'

[Feckitt]

Feckitt,  if by "lethal" you mean really good, then you're dead on.  Al O'Donnell is maybe my favourite folk singer.  His first album is terrific, or at least it was until I left it out of its sleeve and the sun melted it.  I've been searching for it ever since.  Once I bid on it on ebay but was outbid by some hallion.  I was stunned that someone else knew of him.  You should definitely hear his renditions of "Matt Hyland" and "Ned of the Hill" or, on a county-related theme, "The Streets of Derry."  And, Shane, I'm truly thankful that you excavated that ITMA site.  I've always enjoyed listening to kitchen-table recordings, but have to admit surprise that someone wrote a song about Sion Mills. I used to enjoy listening to Keady's own Sarah Makem who had a huge repertoire of old songs.  But f I were a transblackwaterite, I'd go for "The Mountains of Pomeroy" but always seem to have a hard time finding a recording of it that I like.  And, laoislad, "The March of the King of Laois" is a gem.  I suppose any tune dedicated to Ciaran McKeever can't be half bad.

Yes, of course I mean really good.  On Youtube there is a video of Al singing it live after being introduced by Tommy Makem.  Did the bould Tommy have a TV Show?  Also another really great version by Dick Gaughan who as well as Keady and Granemore, gets a mention in for Tassagh as well. 

[Oraisteach]

Feckitt, I've a geographical question for you about "The Hills of Granemore."  Sure enough, the song mentions Granemore, Keady and Tassagh, but it also mentions Maydown, as in "the boys of Maydown" and "the dogs of Maydown." Do you know where that is?  I know of no Maydown in Armagh; in fact, the only one I've ever heard of is in Derry, which seems a long way to take dogs to go hare hunting.

[theticklemister]

Feckitt, I've a geographical question for you about "The Hills of Granemore."  Sure enough, the song mentions Granemore, Keady and Tassagh, but it also mentions Maydown, as in "the boys of Maydown" and "the dogs of Maydown." Do you know where that is?  I know of no Maydown in Armagh; in fact, the only one I've ever heard of is in Derry, which seems a long way to take dogs to go hare hunting.

would it be 'The Boys of Mullaghbawn.' Maybe ye mis-heard it.

Old song from s.armagh about the lads from that area

[Feckitt]

There is a townland of Maytone which is around Glenanne which would border Tassagh.   That would be more probable than Milltown as in Clady Milltown.  Or it could be the hard to pronounce Mowhan.