By Land and Sea (Blackwater Songs) by Aileen Lambert

By Land and Sea

Songs of Blackwater and Beyond

A songbook produced as a result of The Blackwater Song Project devised and facilitated by Aileen Lambert

Compiled and edited by Aileen Lambert

Supported by The Wayside Players, Blackwater and Wexford County Council via the Creative Communities Scheme

Published by The Magpie’s Nest, Curragraigue, Enniscorthy, Co Wexford, 2019 Printed by Blueprint, Arklow

Cover Photo: View from Blackwater Bridge c1939

© All songs copyright their respective owners

This songbook is dedicated to our singers and reciters of old: Dinny Leacy, Dick Sheil, Jim Dempsey, Johnny Quirke, Molly Mythen, Nicky Foley, Dan Breen, Ger Corrigan, John ‘Doc’ O’ Connor and ‘The Brick’

“No man will love his land or race Who has no pride in his native place, Nor will traditions linger long Where local poets make no song. And thus it spread and prospers still Because men love their local hill, Their fields and streams, village and town, And proudly play to bring renown To parish or county; no purse of gold Can buy the hero, brave and bold, Whose talents, skills and determination Are used to win the acclamation Of his own people.”

Criostóir Ó Floinn

Limerick poet, dramatist, writer

Introduction

“All songs are living ghosts and long for a living voice.”

Welcome to ‘By Land and Sea’, a compilation of songs, recitations and poetry from the parish of Blackwater and its immediate environs in County Wexford. These songs have been collected by local ballad enthusiasts during 2019 under the watchful eye of traditional singer and traditional arts specialist, Aileen Lambert, Project Facilitator.

The songs here belong to our community: farmers, fishermen, housewives, sportsmen and sportswomen and many more. The songs are deeply rooted in the social fabric of the parish of Blackwater and surrounding areas. In the songs we find a vibrant living community with an acute sense of place and time.

As one would expect, the songs refer to people, events and places in Blackwater. The story of the community is presented in a rich tapestry of verse and rhymes. The song themes are rich, varied and wide ranging, from sea tragedy, to epic hurling matches, boat races and local heroes. The emotions that are revealed to us in dealing with these themes are also wide ranging: pride and loss, love and pain, joy and loneliness, victory and defeat, humour and sarcasm. In many ways these compositions allow us to explore the pulse and heartbeat of our community.

These songs are like monuments which are conveniently spread around the community proudly displaying a ‘rich and rare land’. Local history is portrayed here through song and always through a prism of high colour and exaggeration beneath the ‘starry heavens’.

Senan Lillis, Community Coordinator

The Blackwater Song Project set out to engage local historians and song enthuasiasts, local singers and singers from the surrounding areas in exploring the local traditional song heritage of the Blackwater area. It was obvious from the outset that traditional song culture had not only a strong, respected and vibrant history in Blackwater but that there was a very live and current interest in traditional song and local history and culture. In fact, the sheer amount of information, songs and potential song material which had been amassed after just a couple of meetings made it apparent that we would in fact have a wonderful challenge on our hands to get through it all! We feel we have met this challenge with great success and are proud to present this songbook which we hope will be a catalyst for further song collecting, recording, singing sessions and the simple but powerful performance of a local song sung by a local person, be it in their home, the car, the pub or on stage.

Typical of the wider song tradition at large, the repertoire here includes a great variety of song type including songs in praise of place, songs of the sea, sporting songs etc. Blackwater village’s reputation as a winning ‘Tidy Town’ is supported by a great number of songs by various writers paying tribute to the beauties of the village and surrounding areas. The nearby treacherous Blackwater Bank, responsible for so many seawrecks, also gave rise to a number of songs which provide accounts of such events. The strong tradition of hurling in the area has given rise not only to recently written accounts of victories but also some legendary matches from the past including pre-GAA times.

The project involved regular meetings with participants who shared and collected various songs, recitations and poems relating to the Blackwater area and beyond. The book features a number of songs never before published while a number of poems and recitations which were already in existence have been put to old airs. In more cases poetry has had new airs composed to suit them.

The project’s Facebook page ‘The Blackwater Song Project’ is being used to present videos of participants singing songs in this collection at a concert in June 2019 and the singing session at the launch. It will also be used to announce any further developments in the project which will arise – so please keep in touch.

Aileen Lambert, Project Facilitator

About The Wayside Players

This project was supported by the Wayside Players who received support from Wexford County Council through the Creative Communities Scheme. The Wayside Players were founded in 1968 and have been actively involved in the amateur drama since. Wayside have enjoyed success down through the years in both the One and Three Act Festival Circuit, and they are known the length and breadth of Ireland, with Wayside Players productions being synonymous with good drama. Waysides’ Summer Season ‘Pub Theatre’ attracts large audiences and are popular with locals and the many tourists who visit the picturesque village of Blackwater. Staged every year in local hostelries, these productions fill to capacity every night and are an important part of the social calendar in the village. After experiencing a lull in activities, Wayside regrouped in 2015 and have pretty much been engaged in one production or another since then. The group participated in the One Act Festival Circuit annually since then and were successful in staging a Three Act Festival Circuit play for the 2019 season and the group is going from strength to strength. A number of new and young members have also revitalised the group and there are many opportunities for all to be involved in many different ca pacities. The group are currently planning forthcoming productions for the All Ireland Circuit and for a ‘Winter’s Blues’ night planned for January 2020. They are proud also to be part of the forthcoming Pageant, ‘The Life and Times of James Shipley’ planned for May 2020.

The Wayside Players are a strong and very important part of the village life of Blackwater, giving hours of engagement, social interaction, contribution and pleasure to the many members. If you would like to be involved in any capacity, we are always looking out for new talent, for stage and behind the scenes. Please like The Wayside Players Drama Group facebook page for further information and upcoming news and events.

Kathleen Byrne, The Wayside Players

Project Participants

Eddie Black

Christine Black

John Breen

Colm Brennan

John Byrne

Kathleen Byrne

Denis Carroll

Rita Carroll

Jimmy Connor

Hugh Doyle

Mick Doyle

John Furlong

Aileen Lambert

Pat Leacy

Senan Lillis

Anne McLoughlin

Grace Murphy

Matt Murphy

Joan Nolan

Paddy Scully

Paul Tobin

Deirdre Tobin

Maeve Townsend

Damien Walsh

Kevin Waters

Bridgie Whelan

Mary Jay Whelan

Thanks to the following for their contributions: Blackwater Lodge Hotel, Michael Fortune (video editor), Joan Lambert, Dan Walsh of Southeast Radio, Councillor Oliver Walsh, Micheál Marrinan, Wexford County Arts Officer Liz Burns and The Arts Department of Wexford County Council. Others who attended meetings and contributed to the project incl ude Cllr. Oliver Walsh, Claire Doyle (Walsh), John Purcell, Mary and Tommy Whelan, Marie Asple, Madge Redmond, Kate Dooley, Rosie Cullen, Larry Whelan, Jimmy Whelan, Kathleen Whelan, Annie Burke, Marian Mulvey, Tom Carroll, Mike Carroll and Eugene McLoughlin.

About Aileen Lambert

Aileen Lambert is a traditional singer, visual artist, traditional arts specialist and public art curator. She recently recorded The Wexford Lovers featuring solo, unaccompanied traditional songs from Wexford and Newfoundland with Arts Council support. As well as performing at singing sessions, festivals and events, Aileen devises and facilitates traditional song projects with schools and communities with the support of local authorities, Music Generation, the Heritage-in-Schools Scheme and the Arts Council. These include innovative research and composition projects, jointly coordinated with her partner Michael Fortune, involving internationally renowned traditional singers in association NLI, ITMA and the Irish World Academy of Music and Dance at UL. These include The 1916 Song Project, The Bird Song Project and Songs for Our Children. She also works on a local level in County Wexford, conducting local traditional song projects in villages, unearthing and sharing locally penned songs of people and place. She is also Mammy to three little singers Nellie (9), Eppie (7) and Nan (5) who have built up their own repertoire and following. To find out more follow Aileen Lambert – Traditional Singer on facebook.

Songs in Praise of Blackwater

A 'sense of belonging' and a 'pride of place' are two traits common to the composers of all the songs in this chapter.

Blackwater is a rural coastal parish which was formed by combining the old parishes of Killila and Ballyvalloo with parts of Ballyvaldon, Meelnagh, Castle Ellis and Killesk. We remember in song our sad times and our happy times whether it was the heartbreak and loneliness of our emigrants or the celebrations of our sporting heroes, and, of course, for the last fifty odd years the success of the village in the Tidy Towns competition.

Looking back over the years we always seemed to have a reason to have our village looking its best for the stranger who might be visiting.

Going back to the 18th century we had four Fair Days in the course of the year at Crosshue but during the 19th century this changed to a monthly fair day in the village. This continued until the early 1960's when the Farmers’ Co Operative Marts took over, thus ending the bargaining system of rural Ireland.

Our annual Eucharistic Procession was another event which helped to nurture a pride of place in our parishioners and indeed some would say this was how the Tidy Town committee was established. We all remember the work involved in preparing for the Procession every year so to enter the Tidy Towns competition seemed the natural thing to do.

While the Procession heralded the beginning of summer, the end of the holiday season was marked by the Big Sunday, a day of fun and sport on Ballyconnigar Strand. The Big Sunday was held every year on the Sunday following August 15th. We hope, as you browse through this chapter and listen to the songs that you get the sense of admiration and love the writers have for our parish. Whether composed almost one hundred years ago or just lately we know these songs will live long in your memory….. so enjoy!

Rita Carroll

‘She is a rich and rare land; Oh! She’s a fresh and fair land She is a dear and rare landThis native land of mine.’

Thomas Davis

Oh! For Blackwater

Words: Senan Lillis

Air: Eamonn an Chnoic Singer: Aileen Lambert

Oh, silent the waters that through Blackwater flow, Midst meadows and valleys so softly they go, Rich landscape with wild rugged fertile a plain, And homesteads for centuries, their culture enlain. Oh, well we recall the men of ninety-eight, Who with Sparks fought at Oulart and at Duffry Gate, But on Vinegar’s slopes by Slaney’s red side, On a damp summer’s morning Blackwater men died.

Oh, here’s to a people hard pressed to survive, With stench from potato fields in the year forty-five But grain from the hilltops, herrings from Ballyvaloo, As in ages of living, since Ardlarua.

Oh, the swell of the surf o’er the bank towards land, Carving, destroying the ploughed fields of sand, Where the call of the deep fell deaf to the cry, On Ballyconnigar’s deep sea bed the Pomona doth lie.

Oh, the sounds of the corncrake the distance ago, With horse and with reaper the sweet barley to mow, A place left for nature and for men to survive, In Blackwater’s warm vales all creatures alive. Oh, the clash of the ash the echo still rings, Of the leather in flight from power of the swing, The youth of Blackwater with traditions old flail, Of the work and the leisure together were played.

Oh, the century dawns to the birth of the day, In Blackwater the pulse of a proud people will stay, The roar of the tide to remind all who pass, The toll of the churchbell calls its people to Mass. Oh, silent the waters that through Blackwater flow, Midst meadows and valleys so softly they go, Rich landscape with wild rugged fertile a plain, And homesteads for centuries, their culture enlain.

Senan Lillis wrote this song in March 1997. However he never quite settled on an air for it and so it set a task for the group to find a suitable air. It was found that the air of the song Eamonn an Chnoic was most suitable and Aileen Lambert performed the song for the first time ever at a concert presented by the Blackwater Song project in the Blackwater Lodge Hotel in June 2019, some twenty-two years after it was composed.

Beautiful Blackwater

Words: Catherine Murphy-Ryan

Air: Variant of Slattery’s Mounted Foot Singer: Jimmy Connor

You’ve heard of Enniscorthy and of Gorey and Oylegate, You’ve heard how Wexford’s Pikemen fought in 1798, You’ve heard of Screen, Curracloe and of Kilmuckridge too, You’ve also heard of Castlebridge to mention but a few. I’m also sure you’ve heard about Blackwater on the coast, The winner in the whole South East and that’s no idle boast. It is the finest of the lot I’m sure you will agree, But why not ask Bord Fáilte sure! And don’t depend on me.

Chorus

Down through the village the judges made their way, Saying “that’s a certain winner from what we’ve seen today”, Blackwater’s done it this time, and we’re very proud to be, The people of this beauty spot, Blackwater by the sea.

One Wednesday morn a telegram arrived the tale to tell, Which put our village in the news, oh I remember well, The joy we felt when it was heard, a dream come true at last. The flags were raised! A toast was drunk! Excitement rising fast! We’ve won! The joyful shout rang out ‘twas heard from far and near. Oh yes indeed, Blackwater was a ‘Tidy Town’ that year. It is the finest of the lot I’m sure you will agree, The winner in the whole South East, Blackwater by the sea.

Blackwater has been a competitor in Bord Fáilte’s Tidy Towns since the early 1960’s and was a regular county and regional winner in that era. This song was composed for a school concert in the early seventies but was then discarded. However, the crumpled note with the words was found years later and so our ‘Tidy Towns’ song is still here today. It is most appropriate at this particular point in time as after twenty-three years the County Award was once again granted to the Village of Blackwater this year, 2019.

Sunset in Blackwater

Words: Kevin Whitty

Air: Noreen Bawn

Singers: Blackwater Song Project Group

There’s a spot in County Wexford and it always calls to me, A place of charm and beauty for all the world to see, With the flowers all in blossom and the hedges trimmed so grand, The village of Blackwater is the Queen of Ireland.

Chorus

Where the waterfall is singing, and the air is fresh and sweet, And the music of the river echoes down the village street, Once again, we will go strolling as we did in times before, When it’s sunset in Blackwater you’ll be mine for evermore.

Every home is freshly painted, every lawn is lush and green, All the pathways clean and tidy, no litter can be seen. God bless the folk who live there, they all lend a helping hand, And they help to keep Blackwater the Queen of Ireland.

When the golden sun is setting and the flowers bloom so gay, The tourists come to Wexford to pass the time away. And when they see Blackwater, they can’t believe their eyes For they think it’s part of heaven that has fallen from the skies.

This song was originally recorded by a group in Blackwater called ‘Abhainn Dubh’ back in the 1990's. The group was the brainchild of Tony Woods who was the Catholic curate in Blackwater at the time. He invited some singers and musicians who played in Blackwater to form a group and they re corded an album which included ‘Sunset in Blackwater’. Members of the group were Tony Woods, the late Breda McGuinness, John Dooley, Seán Furlong, Peadar Doran, and three others; Eddie Black, Bridgie Whelan and John Breen, who are part of this project.

Seaside Musings

Words: Pat McGill

Air: Kathleen Byrne

Singer: Christine Black

I stood by Blackwater’s blue ocean, In the stillness of evening’s decline, And my heart wandered out in devotion, From the water-kissed haven of mine. The sun in reflection of splendour, His beams in farewell did bestow, Like a kiss from a lover so tender, When time bid his maiden to go.

The waves in crescendos of music, Beat time on the pebble-strewn strand, While I, in my wild seclusion, By cooling sea breezes was fanned. The sea birds on pinions were gliding, As each flittered peacefully by, The genius of God was reflected, On land, on sea and in sky.

Oh! Sea, bring this message from Ireland, To her exiles away o’er the foam; To make them return to their island, No more from its beauty to roam. Oh! Children, return to your mother! ‘Tis sadly she’s yearning for you, To show, that in age, you still love her, Like in youth, when you bade her adieu.

And you who have crossed the broad river, Smiling down from your heaven of bliss, Come back for one moment to give her, Affections true symbol, a kiss. Let us hope that God shall soon grant it, Not honour, nor beauty nor fame, But that I, like his creatures, shall chant it, The glory and praise of His name.

Blackwater

Words: Pat McGill

Air: Original by Kathleen Byrne

Singer: Kathleen Byrne

When the mantle of darkness her soft garb has cast, Over mountains and valleys serene, And the toils of the day are all over and passed, Oft before me cometh a scene, Of the years of my boyhood and childhood, Where no sorrow or care did abide, When I roamed through the valley and wildwood, With companions, so fond by my side.

How plain can I picture those playmates of mine, And the scenes where we wandered and played, Or lingered by streamlet, with novel and line, In Blackwater, my own native town.

I can see in the vision the crest of the hill, As it gazes so lovingly down, Like a sentinel shielding from every ill, My own picturesque little town. And there on the brow the schoolhouse it stands, Oh, what joy it rekindles in me, Looking down, as it does, on the rich fertile land, Of Blackwater’s sweet homes by the sea.

How nestles this beauty, caressed by the brine, What compares to this haven of rest, And the beauties of nature inlaid to behold Of Blackwater, my own native town.

Where now as of yore in calmness and peace, In the wake of his harrow and plough, The ploughboy in silence his furrows retrace, With contentment arranged on his brow. In climate, as soft as a fond mother’s smile, In a soil just as fruitful as love, Through the thorns of life, unconscious he toils, To be paid for it all from above.

Oh, what can compare to this haven of rest, Immune to all evil and crime! The credit and pride of your country, Blackwater, my own native town.

It’s a pity a poet with so humble a pen Should waste but his efforts in vain, To portray all the beauties which nature defies, Sure, no artist to this could attain. May God with His choicest of blessings, Reward you by showering them down. Some day I will fondly caress you, Blackwater my own native town.

God bless you and guard you, Blackwater, As you are, may you always remain, A village, a place, a home we’ll embrace Blackwater my own native town, Blackwater my own native town.

Both of these pieces by Pat McGill were brought to the project as beautiful examples of written verse with the potential to become a song. Pat McGill told Senan Lillis that he wrote these poems while he was stationed with the LDF (Local Defense Force) on the Hill of Slane, Co Meath during the Emergency (1939 – 1945). Kathleen Byrne was instantly drawn to the song ‘Blackwater’ as she has a deep personal connection and love of the places and scenes described in it and sings it on the CD. Kathleen composed new airs for both songs.

The Old Blackwater Mill

Words: John Anthony (Tony) Corrigan

Air: Original air by Kathleen Byrne

Singer: Kathleen Byrne

The swift mill race, its course still runs, Into the flowing Abhainn Dubh. Ignoring now, the ruined shell, Ivy shrouded, sad, above. Within whose long-deserted walls, In concert, once, turned wheel and cog, With shaft and pulleys, white with dust, Making flour beside the bog.

When working horse was still the king, Scythe was swung with measured pace, Three hundred summers sit its toil, Longer, some would say the case. As wheat and barley, it devoured, To give the parish daily bread, And fattened mice, for owls to fill, When village people lay in bed.

Abandoned then, decades ago, The stuff of legend, it became, A roofless carcass, quite still, A haunted place, so children claim. And yet, when I, upon my walk, Pause by its nettle guarded door, The walls, speak just of loneliness, And beg to be of use once more.

It seems to say, “Yes old am I, And mantle green, my stones embrace, Yet once like you, was in my prime, Knew well your great-grandfather’s face. And his grandfather, when he came, To bring his father’s load of wheat, Or pass as you do, just the same, Or stop and then the miller greet.”

Then Toby, straining on his leash, Invades, my thoughtful reverie, And pulls me further down the lane, Towards the shore and crashing sea, Where other thoughts, my senses claim, Until the morrow’s stroll I take, Where voices seem to call my name, As halt, before that place, I make.

If you follow the course of the Aughanall / Blackwater river down the Millrace it brings you to the corn mill. The mill is situated beside the river near the footbridge. In its original form the mill was a busy spot, where local farmers brought their corn for grinding and was in operation until the 1950s. It was owned by th e Etchingham family and later by Tommy and Mrs O' Donoghue. After lying idle for many years it was transformed into what it is today, divided into beautiful apartments in the most idyllic setting imaginable.

Memories of Ballyvaldon

Words: Michael Brennan

Air: Where the Mulcaire River Flows

Singer: John Furlong

There’s an ancient spot in my memory clings, Where I visit in many a dream, ‘Tis the old alley walls and the churchyard nearby, And beside it a rippling stream.

There’s the church of St. Thomas, an ivy clad ruin, Demolished by enemy hands, But regardless of torture, pitchcap or rack, The faith of St. Patrick will stand.

As the ivy will cling to old and decay, As around this old ruin can be seen, So my memory clings to things of the past, And like ivy, remains evergreen.

Through long years in exile, I can never forget, Those days of excitement and thrills, When in hard games of handball, the cheers and applause, Rang out through the valleys and hills.

But my heart sinks low when I visit the place, Where hard games of handball were played. For most of the boys who took part of the play, In the churchyard beside it are laid.

To the old spot I wander, to offer a prayer, For my dear ones at rest in the clay, Surrounded by old school mates and friends, For the souls of each I do pray.

Then alone with my memories of those who have gone, I sit down by the old alley wall.

I can see, as through mist, those boys who played there, Each evening ‘til darkness did fall. How few are now left of those light-hearted boys, And the best days of those few have gone, Like a small bunch of leaves in the late autumn breeze, We remain when all others have flown.

In that old churchyard lie all the remains, Of some heroes of famed ‘Ninety-eight’, The fought ‘til they died, there was no comprise, With the forces of murder and hate.

May God grant each one who is laid there to rest, Perfect peace with the angels on high, May he spare me the days to return there again, ‘Till then, Ballyvaldon, Goodbye!

Up to now this piece has been in existence as a poem. John Furlong, who has many connections with the Ballyvaldon area remembers Mick Brennan well. John set the song to the air of ‘The Mulcaire River’.

Blackwaterside

Words: Unknown

Air: Traditional

Singer: Deirdre Tobin

One morning fair to take the air, Down by Blackwater side, 'Twas in gazing all around me, ‘Twas the Irish lad I spied.

All through the fourth part of the night Where we lay in sport and play, Then this young man he arose and he gathered his clothes, He said, ‘Fare thee well, today’.

Well that's not the promise that you gave to me, When first you lay on my breast, And you’d make me believe with your lying tongue That the sun rose in the west.

Well go on, go home to your father's garden, Go home and weep your fill, And you’ll think on your own misfortune, That you brought with your wanton will.

There's not one girl in this whole world, As easily led as I, Sure as fishes they fly and the seas they run dry, Why it's then you'll marry I.

The origins of this song are unclear, however, it is maintained locally in Blackwater that this song was collected on Blackwater Bridge in the early 1950s from the singing of a Traveller. Peter Kennedy collected the song in 1952 in Belfast from the singing of Mary Doran from New Ross. It is quite possible that it was Mary Doran who also sang the song in Blackwater.

Songs of Sport

Like most rural parishes, Blackwater is blessed with a wide variety of sporting songs and recitations. These songs were composed by ordinary people relating extraordinary events. These sporting songs are, for the most part, complimentary in nature and endeavour to positively and jubilantly relate the happenings of the day in verse and rhyme. Though exaggeration and bias can sometimes creep into the verses, nevertheless, these songs are an invaluable source of cultural and sporting history as well as musical prowess.

For the most part, the sporting songs of Blackwater lie within the realm of GAA activity, particularly hurling. Every championship victory was feted in song and the players granted hero status within their community for decades. In the early days of the GAA the ballad maker and the camán wielder were equally revered. Hurling in Blackwater can be traced back to before the United Irish Rebellion of 1798 and several songs exist about pre-GAA hurling in Blackwater. There’s even a poem written in Latin about a team from the Askasilla area of the parish which issued a challenge to other areas once in every generation.

Every championship winning team was glorified in verse and song and most of these are included in this publication. This practice has vanished in other parishes, but still survives in Blackwater. It is the norm that the song be composed immediately after the game and sang at the celebrations that night. It is considered bad luck to have the song composed before the game, so, the ballad makers don’t have much postmatch time to compose the victory song!

In conclusion, these sporting ballads are considered to be the collective expression of local sporting victories and project the aspirations of a people craving more such victories. Every victory evokes memories of old and thus the ballad can bridge that gap between past and present and thus begins the dream for further communal enjoyment and glorification through sport.

Senan Lillis

The Ballad of Ballinagore

Words: Anon and Séan Whelan

Air: The Bonny Lass of Fyvie-o Singer: Colm Brennan

On the seventh day of May in the year of ‘Ninety Eight , We journeyed to Blackwater to see our gallant ‘Ninety Eights, The dead an’ dying, lame an’ blind, O Lord! They came in scores, To see their team of ‘Ninety Eights perform in Ballinagore.

The first three quarters of the game the leather swiftly flew , Teams gave and took, the earth they shook with a mighty hullabaloo, ‘Til a powerful drive by Callaghan’s side, sent it soaring o’er, Then leading swiftly to their goal that day in Ballinagore.

The ref stood back in amazement and began to hesitate, “If I award this match to the Wexford men, I’ll be bet by the ‘Ninety-Eights” As he gazed along the sideline, “Jaysus mercy, I’ll be sore, There’ll be ashplants flyin’ an’ Wexford men dyin’ this day in Ballinagore.”

One loud, one thrilling cheer from Vinegar Hill, sideline came, The ‘Ninety Eights’ were in command and masters of the game. So roll up, roll on, you ‘Ninety Eights and do not be afraid, If you don’t win by Gaelic rules The Volunteers must pay.

On the seventh day of May in the year of ‘Ninety Eight , We journeyed to Blackwater to see our gallant ‘Ninety Eights, The dead an’ dying, lame an’ blind, O Lord! They came in scores, To see their team of ‘Ninety Eights’ perform in Ballinagore.

This song relates to a famous senior football game between Vinegar Hill ‘98’s from Enniscorthy and John Street Volunteers from Wexford, played in Murphy’s Field, Ballinagore on 7th May 1899. There is much debate whether it was a county semi final or final, but, there is no debate about the ferociousness of the exchanges when the match was abandoned by referee Paddy Behan from Co Wicklow. This song is included in ‘The Ghosts of Bygone Days’ – An Enniscorthy GAA History by Séan Whelan (writer and former reporter with The Echo) Seán sourced fragments of the song from the late ‘Skinner’ Walsh, who was at the match and reconstructed the song.

Horrah! For Old Blackwater (1901)

Words: Séan Etchingham

Air: The Boys of Wexford

Singer: Mick Doyle

In Carlow last December when leading on a score, We had Kilkenny beaten as they could play no more. But Wexford missed the laurels through darkness setting in, We showed such gallant form that day we knew our boys would win.

In Dublin city next we met, but to our great dismay, We found our boys were most unfit and nine of them could play. Our colours and our hearts sank low, but chance came to our aid, For the Council ordered once again the match to be replayed.

Chorus

So, horrah! For old Blackwater your hurlers brave and true, You showed the world where e’er you hurled what Wexford men could do. You showed because of training on fields though far you roam, Loch Gorman’s sons can still find the strength to bring the victory home.

The third day up in Borris did we Kilkenny meet, Thousands swarmed along the line and fast each heart did beat, Our boys and they all Wexfordmen for none but them could play, And soon the news came around the land Blackwater won the day.

Before my song is finished those brave names I’d never shield, They hurled strong on the Borris plains there in the Gaelic field, Our great and able captain Jimmy Furlong is his name, Tom Cullen, Berney Murphy, Mogue Brien of noble fame.

Jack Sheil, Mick Brien, Jack Corrigan, two Byrnes and Donohue, Jack Murphy, Dennis Whelan their courage well we knew, There was Con and Aidan Dempsey, two brothers of great acclaim Jack Sinnott and Mike Cummins and Oularts’ Willie Creane.

This song refers to the Leinster Final of 1901, which was played in 1903. Blackwater had won their third Senior Hurling Championship thus earning the right to represent Wexford in the Leinster Championship. It took three epic matches, amidst other shenanigans, to separate the teams, but eventually Blackwater emerged victorious. This was the first time Wexford and Kilkenny had met in a Leinster Final. Ironically, Wexford lost the All Ireland Home Final to Redmond’s of Cork, founded in honour of Wexford’s Home Rule leader, John Redmond.

Jack Golden contributed to the song by adding the verses naming the team in the song. Jack lived in Kilmacoe, which is halfway between Blackwater and Curracloe.

Old Blackwater Town

Words: Senan Lillis

Air: Lovely Old Miltown

Singer: Senan Lillis

My countrymen, I’ll take my pen, to write a verse or two, About a team, the best I’ve seen, I will relate to you, In zero nine, the day being fine, to Bree pitch we went down, To collect the Cup, and fill it up, in Old Blackwater Town.

The County Junior Championship was our intended prize, Supporters all, tall and small, blow-ins in disguise. Thousands thronged the side line long, dreaming of that illusive crown, And bring it home, to stand alone in Old Blackwater Town.

Behind the scenes of this great team, the seeds of victory were sown, The O’ Leary Trick, Bobby, Eamon and Mick, the bold Eddie Rowe. Since eighty-one when we last won, the rising tide did sound, And these great men, they won again, for Old Blackwater Town.

So, here’s to you, mighty men and true, Sean Furlong is our goalie. A full back line that’s mighty fine, Ronnie, Ownie, and Mr. Mooney, Anthony Roche, they did encroach, but on Monageer he did frown, Owen Byrne, Willie Kehoe, they did let go, for Old Blackwater Town.

The mid-field men, of them I’ll sing, with Lillis and Captain Leary, With Japps and Johnny ‘twas something funny, but with Clarke ‘twas always scary, Kevin and Paul and Lar and all, with Ned sprung from the bench, The whistle sounded, the cheers resounded, “We won the Championship”.

So, fare thee well, to hill and dell, a-celebrating we will go, And songs will be sung by old and young, the Green and Gold will grow, The Saucer’s first to quench our thirst, in Etchinghams we’ll lower it down, And praise this team, these mighty men, from Old Blackwater Town.

This song commemorates the 2009 Blackwater Team who captured the County Junior Football Championship by defeating Monageer-Boolavogue in Bree.

Minor Hurling Final 2002

Words: Senan Lillis

Air: Variant of Jockser Goes to Stuttgart

Singer: Paddy Scully

Chorus:

From Ballybeg to Ballyconnigar, from Inch down to the Street, Never a finer minor team in all your life did meet.

On the first day of February in the year two thousand and three, To the Macamores’ new hurling park the Final for to see, The boys in Green and Gold they left us in no doubt, And proved to the Model County that we were the best about. For months and weeks we waited the Final for to fix, With Craanford O’ Reagan’s our hurling skills to mix, Thousands of supporters, they made the journey down, To see our heroes win the day and carry home the Crown.

The backroom team of Whelan, O’ Connor and Andy Roche, To do the physical training Paddy Murphy they’d approach, With Mary Jay as physio and Ger and Susan too, No stone was left unturned, a job of work to do.

There’s Brendan Murphy between the sticks, he is our number one, Roche, Whelan and Redmond, a back line that’s no fun, Brian Dooley, Johnny Murphy, the fearless Micheál Gray, With skill and speed, with might and dash, ensured Blackwater’s day. The midfield pair of Captain Carroll and Anthony ‘Romeo’ Roche, With lightning speed and blistering pace the green sward they did scorch, Sean Cash, Wayne O’ Connor, Kevin Murphy on the wing, With Lillis, O’ Leary and Dooley to Blackwater the cup did bring. We had Stevie Wildes, Ronan Dempsey and Martin Corrigan, John Keenan and the bold Shay Murphy who proved he was a man, For when he thundered into the game and ready for the fray, Craanford caved in and Blackwater won the day.

This song refers to Blackwater’s first ever County Minor Hurling Title in 2002. Because of inclement weather in Coolree the game was eventually fixed for Ballygarrett in February 2003.

Brave and Bold Blackwater

Words: Senan Lillis

Air: Spancilhill

Singer: Kevin Waters

In years to come when Gaels will meet to talk of games of yore, They’ll journey back to olden times and argue o’er some score. But by the sea in Blackwater town they’ll think of zero-one, When with sweat and blood and hurling guile the Junior Cup was won.

To Wexford Park they will retrace and relive that glorious day, When thousands gathered from the hills and no-one stayed away. The young, the old, the brave and the bold with colours flying high, ‘Horrah! For Old Blackwater’ was the Green and Gold war cry.

Then they will think of the Three Wise Men, Bobby, Paddy and Jay, Who had the team in tip-top shape and ready for the fray. The haunting years that went before when many’s the game was lost, Were brushed aside on that fine day as the Martin’s learned to their cost.

Before I go further on, the team I’ll tell to you, Peter O’ Brien from Ballinellard, two Currans from Ballyvaloo, R.J. Blake, Eoin Lacey, John Ormonde, the Whelans, Malachy and John, With Jason O’ Leary at mid-field, that’s how the cup was won.

And to the forward line I’ll go with six of the mighty best, Ned Whelan, Eoin Murphy and Declan Byrne, they never took a rest, They drove the balls in low with might and speed and dash, For Paul Murphy, Pat O’Connor and Chalky many’s the goalkeeper they drove past.

And just a final word I’ll tell before my song is o’er, To mention the men on the panel, there’s surely thirty or more, Thomas Breen, Dessie O’ Brien and David O’ Leary who on that day were sprung To play their part in this game before the Cup was won.

So there’s my tale I’ve told to you as I’ve told many times before, The boys of Blackwater are on the march with hurling to the core. Just to relive those glorious days when we were young and free, With the clash of the ash and the flying leather, in Blackwater by the sea.

This song refers to Blackwater’s victory in the County Junior Hurling Championship in 2001 versus St Martin’s in Wexford Park. The St Martin’s centre back on that day, Paddy Waters, is a son of the singer here, Kevin Waters.

Blackwater’s Hurling Men

Lyrics: Thomas Corrigan

Air: The Boys of Kilmichael

Singer: John Byrne

For the fifteenth of November, In the year of thirty-six, The Junior Hurling Final The County Board did fix. With Wexford Park the venue, And gallant Blackwater again, Appear in this final contention, Sons of twice Leinster’s best men.

Chorus

Blackwater’s rebirth is unparallelled now, Three cheers for these men by the sea! Long years of subjection to slumber, Counteracted by sweet victory.

The day of the Final for honours, We wended in quest of concrete, ‘Gainst the pride of South Wexford’s contention, Who swore we could never defeat. But hark! To the voice of the gaels of old, Whose hearts are yet true as steel. Blackwater defeated Killinick, To answer their fathers’ appeal.

The game is my fond recollection, The amber and black on the green, Out classing their rivals in fashion, Supremacy quickly was seen. The ringing out of the slogan call, Fond memories brought back again, The whistle tells that the hour is up, And gallant Blackwater men.

These gallant young champions I’ll mention, Each man his praise I will sing; Pat Roche soon pinioned his rival, Ted Foley shone out on a wing, Mike Byrne the ball elevated, And quickly did land in the square. The green flag then struggled for freedom, For bold Martin Whelan was there.

Kevin Murphy inspired when defending, Locating attack every time, Bill Kenny, an express of action, Ted Marsh was a goalie sublime, A prince of full backs - Larry Byrne I’ll crown, Courageous and dauntless was he, And Aidan delivered as brilliant a stroke, As e’er a spectator did see.

Simon Corrigan tarnished Killinick’s attack, His accurate defence was a treat, And Paddy, a field, a mountain of strength, Made sure our opponents’ defeat.

Pat Walsh, in swift motion, and deadly attack, A blossom of action, no doubt, Jim Redmond aspiring inscribed on my roll, For courage and dash he shone out.

Jim Roche was a pure camán-wielder, With lightning, pull on the ball; Tom Corrigan’s herculean efforts, Brought rounds of the old slogan call. Blackwater awake from her slumbers now, The home of the true hurling men, Heredity brought the pride of the Gael, Back home to East again.

This song refers to Blackwater’s victory in the 1936 Junior Final when the seasiders overcame the mighty St. Fintan’s in Wexford Park.

The Screen Harriers

Lyrics: Unknown

Air: Traditional

Singer: Paul Tobin

On the twelfth day of February for my recreation , For Garrylough cross roads I straight took my way, My spirits were raised by the sound of a bugle, That in Ballyhaigue so cheerly did play.

I enquired from a sportsman what caused this sweet music, And returning in answer to me he did say, “Those are the Screen Harriers leaving the kennels, And I’m sorry I cannot go with them today”.

With a quick step I hastened to view that sweet mansion, And to my surprise there in it I found, The old lofty oak with its branches extending, And all sorts of game around it did abound.

There was an old spreading beech, the yew tree and sycamore, The ash and deal did this dwelling surround, And at my departure from that grand department, I spied a young sportsman and he counting his hounds.

When his hounds he had counted, his steed then he mounted, A horse of the moment with superior speed, He had scarcely reached the road with his honourable father, When full forty sportsmen did join them indeed.

For Newfort they hastened and a hare they soon started, With the echoing of bugles did the valley resound, No music on earth could ever compare, With the beautiful cry of those true running hounds.

There was ‘Ringwood’ and ‘Ringer’, ‘Tapper’ and ‘Stinger’, ‘Newboy’ and ‘Merryman’ they ran well in train, ‘Stormer’ and ‘Charmer’ and dreadful ‘Alarmer’, ‘Fairmaid’ and Merryglass’ skipped over the plain.

On for Ballinteggart poor puss passed before them, ‘Speaker’ being leader he kept her in view, She made one more effort her life for to save, And then wheeled around back for Ballyvaloo.

From Paddy Berry’s publication ‘Wexford Ballads’ (1982). This song was given to him by Paddy Donohoe of Curracloe Post Office, a fine singer who possessed a lot of the old ballads.

Heroes One and All

Words: Patsy Whelan

Air: Traditional Singer: Bridgie Whelan

On the fourth day of May, a day of renown, The Blackwater hurlers were out for the crown, They went to the final in the year ’55, But ‘twas not till ’57 did their turn arrive.

Their opponents, St. Bennan’s, from sweet Davidstown, Had won every match in Enniscorthy Town, But before the game ended they all had to yield, For the men from Blackwater had won on the field.

There was brave Lar Whelan who played well in the goal, And bold Jim Nolan, may he never grow old, And little Jim Whelan, who played with great sting, Sure they say that he’d outclass the great Christy Ring.

The Baker Murphy, he kept a sound line, He beat back the forwards from the ball every time, Our Captain Mogue Leary, well known to his foes, He has beaten and conquered them wherever he goes.

Our star Martin Byrne, he played like a man , And upheld the tradition like the Boy from Killanne, Sean Ormonde too, who works for Messrs Nunn, He’s renowned in all Wexford for the great games he won.

James Ormonde and partner Whelan P.J., Who played at midfield, showed the Bennan’s the way, To link up the backs and put the forwards on top, And to hurl for an hour without any stop.

Johnny Doran, Dan Gallagher, and Paddy O’ Brien, Sure St. Bennan’s didn’t know were they walking or flying, Joe Nielan and Jim Mannion were there to the fore, And sent the ball goalwards each time for a score.

Hats off to Pat Furlong from Ballyvaldon, He was never once conquered, he beat every man, With his bullet-like drives that went straight to the net, That St. Bennan’s or Camross can never forget.

So now to conclude and to finish my song, I hope you won’t say my verses wrong, We won the Junior, it was no touch and go, And we’ll win the Intermediate, says the bold Joe Keogh.

A tribute to the Blackwater Hurling Team of 1957 who won the County Junior Hurling Championship by defeating the famed St Bennan’s, Davidstown.

Hurling on the Slob

Words: Ned Reilly

Air: Traditional

Singer: Matt Murphy

On the third day of May in the year sixty-three, To my satisfaction great sport I did see, The hurlers from Killisk we did overthrow, On the mudlands of Wexford our valour did show.

They boast that Killisk for the field were prepared, And they thought that no parish could equal like theirs. In the presence of thousands ‘twas known to be true, They were downed by the champions from Ballyvaloo.

Our bowman Pat Kehoe he was pleasing that day, Three Briens and Mogue Shiggins supported the play, And brave Bill McGuinness, the pride of my song, I hope you ‘ll excuse me if I got that wrong.

Jack Sheil, Thomas Bolger and Anthony Roche, Caused Killisk to tremble when they did approach, And brave Thomas Sinnott who drove in the bow, In the presence of thousands John Roche he laid low.

‘Twas then with excitement the crowd they did shout, And I won’t name the boy who lost teeth from his mouth: “Mother, come hither”, the Bowman did call “And sit on the bow ‘til my name I’ll recall”

‘Twas in front of the green when I stared with one eye, Larry Sheil and Tom Murray I chanced for to spy. Those able young hurlers drove on the left square, And they swarmed round in circles and pulled in the air.

To conclude and to finish my bit of a song, Our match on the slob we’ll remember for long, The Hurlers from Killisk we bate for the prize, Up Ballyvaloo and our great hurling boys.

This piece of verse was written by Ned Reilly of Castle Ellis and modified by Micheál Marrinan in January 2019. The match referred to was Ballyvaloo versus Killisk, May 1863. There’s an old saying “When legend and history clash - print the legend”. This is an account of a mighty hurling conflict which took place on 3rd of May, 1863, on the North Slob, north of Wexford Harbour in the Parish of Castlebridge. The teams were Ballyvaloo from the Parish of Blackwater and Killisk from the nearby Parish of Ballaghkeen (The Ballagh). The game was scarcely over and before the players had wrung the sweat from their caps local bards were busy immortalizing their heroes in verse.

Until the advent of The Blackwater Song Project it was believed that only one ballad existed pertaining to this historic event, song fragments of which were supplied by Paddy Berry in 1988 for an article in the Wexford GAA Yearbook entitled ‘Ballad Makers and the GAA’, a Yearbook edited by Senan Lillis. Paddy Berry had sourced these verses from the School Manuscript, Vol. 885, pages 267-268, in the Dept of Folklore, UCD. In 1984, Senan Lillis had collected another verse from Paddy Furlong, Screen, and another few lines from Jim Malone, Ballyvaloo. Micheál Marrinan, Dungarvan, recently rearranged some of the verses and added the final one. This enables the song to be sung and he also suggested the air for the song.

The Hurlers on the Mudlands

(The Killisk Victory Ballad)

Words: Anon

Air: Unknown

Ye philosophers, poets and young students, Who gain great applause at the Fair, Assist me with speeches most fluent, In praise of a hurling so rare.

Genius breaks out in distractio, Calliope bids me to indite, In praise of a noble great action, I will now take my pen and go write.

On the 5th day of May I remember, It being in the year ‘63, On the Mudlands our heroes assembled, Determined to gain victory.

Those victorious heroes of Killisk, Their actions I will now bring to view, As with eager desire they’ve stepped forward, To conquer sweet Ballyvaloo.

As soon as a ball it descended, Both parties their skill did exert, But bold and undaunted Leacy, He gave the first stroke I assert.

For sixty-five minutes, hard hurling, They played by our ancestors’ rules, And in spite of all their endeavours, In justice we slashed in three ‘cúls’.

Dan Fortune attended Roche, our bowman, He acted with judgement and skill, Peter Leary and sound Patrick Murphy, Did each manly action fulfill.

Laurence Kavanagh and dashing Frank Cullen, Stephen Sinnott who played at his crest, Along with intrepid Pat Curran, That chiefly supported our breast.

So now to give praise to our clouster, As they were all men of renown; Mike Murphy and daring Bill Leary, Pat Quirke and John Connor Mac Na Talmhan.

Ned Reilly and Swift Willie Sparrow

That boldly swept into the play

Assisted by John and James Pender

To a foe, whom they never said “ nay ” .

Those heroes on both sides contended Each anxious to gain victory, No man’s temper had need to be curtailed, But acted their part valiantly.

A Hector or great Alexander, Or Finn or his heroes so bold, Dare vie with the boys of the Mudlands, Though famed in the contests of old.

While researching in Wexford Library on the previous song featured here - ‘Hurling on the Slob’ - another song was discovered about this same hurling match in ‘The Free Press’, 11th November 1951. Amazingly, these verses state that Killisk won the game which really ‘threw the cat among the pigeons’, to say the least. For decades it was the opinion that Ballyvaloo had won the game. So, who did win the game? Does it matter? Perhaps, it’s right and fitting that this historic pre GAA encounter should remain aloof of victors or vanquished.

For the record, it should be pointed out that the ‘rules’ of hurling at that time were significantly different from today’s rules. The goals were bows with two sally saplings tied at the top and the goal man was known as the ‘Bow-man‘. The backs were called ‘the Breast’, the forwards were known as ‘the Drivers’ and the midfield players called ‘the Clouster’. There was a left square and a right square and teams were 21-a-side.

In all probability, this game was a prime example of Leinster Summer Hurling as opposed to winter ‘camánacht’, common in the midlands (two distinct separate pre GAA traditions and both deriving from pre Christian times). We’re told that thousands attended this game, many crossing the harbour by boat from Wexford town. The North Slob was chosen because of close proximity to both teams but it was also completely level and used extensively for horse racing and coursing meetings. Linesmen on the day were William Scallan from Ballyvaloo and Matt Brennan of Kilnew both on horseback armed with clubs. There was no referee! Three McGuinness triplets played for Ballyvaloo that day. Tom ‘Gentleman ‘ Fortune, Inch House, Blackwater, recently married, hurled that day when his father pleaded with his new wife to let him play. He arrived just as the game was starting and played a great game. He never hurled again!

Here then are the two ballads of this priceless piece of local folklore. It’s interesting to note that both ballads give different dates for the game, though only two days between them. There hardly were two games the same week between the same two teams; the mystery continues. Another mystery piece to the jigsaw concerns Ned Reilly. The Ballyvaloo ballad is attributed to Ned Reilly from Castlellis. Killisk also had a player named Ned Reilly and given that Castlellis is in the same parish as Killisk (The Ballagh) could this be the same person? If so, why conflicting match reports? Answers on a postcard!

Come on Blackwater, Up Blackwater

Words: Senan Lillis

Air: Variant of Red-Haired Mary Singer: Eddie Black

Chorus

Come on Blackwater, Up Blackwater, Sing it out through hill and glen, Intermediate Hurling Champions, Sing it out for Blackwater’s Hurling Men.

Let me tell you of a story, Let me tell you of a team, For I will praise a gallant band, Of the finest hurlers ever seen. From early March the training started, Through wind and sleet, sunshine and rain, With Andy, Paddy and Fr. Jim, Somehow things would never again be the same.

Let down the plough, oh mother of God, Mick at home, two hands on the hurl, The ball, lads, the ball, that’s all that counts, Slowly an historic year unfurled. Rosslare and Oulart bit the bullet, Liam Mellows twice were brushed aside, Fethard too were swallowed up, By Blackwater’s rising tide.

The famed Rathnure from Blackstairs shadow, In the final game we met, And to a replay we were taken, Before Dennis O’ Brien twice rattled their net. So, to the Leinsters we marched on, The flying flags of Green and Gold, History about to be made, In the footsteps of Blackwater’s men of old.

We had Peter O’ Brien between the sticks, Solid as a rock, now I tell you, The captain Lar, Kieran Roche and Eoin Byrne, For never a forward they let through. The half back line, for they were gallant, In defence and in attack, Anthony Roche and the múinteoir Johnnys, Mighty men and mighty crack!

So to the midfield my song will take you, In the sod or in the air, The flying leather driven forward, With Lillis and Carroll the accolades did share. Brothers Paul and Kevin Murphy, Owney Leacy on the wing, Japs and Paul and fearless Dooley, Poetry in motion, our team did sing.

This song sings the praises of the Blackwater team that won the County Intermediate Hurling Championship in 2008 in Wexford Park. The first 3 lines on verse 2 are phrases frequently used by Fr Jim Butler, Team Coach and Manager, during training sessions.

The Curracloe Boat Race

Lyrics: Tom Hayes

Air: The Screen Harriers

Singer: Paul Tobin

You muses inspire with heroic fire, The mind of your poet that he might indite, And with mirth and with candour and poetic grandeur, The brave County Wexfordmen’s praises to write, We long shall remember the month of September, In the year twenty-seven when six boats did row, For a prize they contended but soon it was ended, And carried with honour to famed Curracloe.

That the crew were matched equal you’ll find in the sequel, And each boat was manned with the pick of the men, Likewise in formation to make preparation, To avoid litigation when the race would begin, Then with full satisfaction the men were in action, Awaiting the signal as all had agreed, The boats were in motion when loud an explosion, Announced o’er the ocean that they might proceed.

Off Blackwater they started but soon they were parted, The Curracloe boys left them all in the rear, With courage undaunted each man for fame panted, Being equally anxious the laurels to wear.

To The Brook they rowed valiant, stout, able and gallant, Then back they came swiftly without much delay, Our famous steampacket with her speed and her racket, They would show her clean heels were she out on that day.

’Tis not my intention each boat crew to mention, For to breed contention is not my design, But the Trojan race famous, that was won by Pertunius, In my best opinion was not half so fine. But to leave out those strangers, their actions and dangers, Of the Curracloe boys I now aim to sing, The pride of Hibernia and true sons of Gráinne, Who with heroic valour the prize home did bring.

To praise them sufficient I own I’m deficient, And in no way proficient in poetic style, But were I a Homer I’d think it was an honour, Their fame to make known throughout Erin’s Isle. Matt Murphy, whose courage was exalting and glorious, With judgment and skill the helm did wield, Like his ancestors numerous who oft were victorious, By land or by sea to the foe ne’er did yield.

And I’m not unwilling to praise John and William, Two more of the Murphys, both stout hearty boys, Likewise Thomas Carty, courageous and hearty, Was one of the party that earned the prize. Dick Neville was in it, with Anthony Sinnott, Both fully determined to conquer the foe, And also Mogue Doyle, who proved true and loyal, Now these were the heroes from brave Curracloe.

Among the resident gentry who dwell in that country, The fame of young Turner outstanding does shine, But for his exertions the envious assertions, Of mischievous persons would have us resign. He encouraged the crew to take part in the race, So also did Scallon and Ross, two good friends, They urged the boys on, to show off their best pace, And the ‘Mary’ was first, and so there the race ends.

The boats that were second and third I won’t mention, They gave of their best but soon everyone knew, They hadn’t a chance, though they tried hard to tame them, But they couldn’t keep step with the Curracloe crew. So come fill up your glasses to all pretty lasses, We’ll toast them in bumpers wherever we go, And we’ll drink the full gallon in the house of young Scallon, And drink health to the heroes from famed Curracloe.

This famed boat race started off in Blackwater and raced towards a place called The Brook which runs into the sea at the convent at Ballyvaloo. It then turned and headed back for Blackwater. The event took place in 1827. The victorious Curracloe crew members were household names in Curracloe for generations due to their many successes in their eight-oared rowing boat. The song features on the CD by the renowned Wexford singer and song collector Paddy Berry Sing Again Paddy. Paddy also included it in his publication ‘Wexford Ballads’ (1982) under the title ‘Mary from Curracloe’. Paddy credits the late Paddy Donohue of Curracloe with preserving the song. The song was written by Tom Hayes, Curracloe, sadly, nothing is known of him. The original air is also lost and Paddy Berry ‘imported’ the air of ‘The Screen Harriers’ to it as it fitted perfectly. This is common practice in balladry around the country.

Songs of the Sea

The seafaring songs included in this book are mainly sourced from the book ‘Songs of the Wexford Coast’ first published in 1948 and reprinted, due to public demand, in 1975. This was a collection of songs gathered by Fr. Joseph Ranson, C.C., Enniscorthy, from various sources but mainly from older people living along the Wexford coast who knew all, or at least some of, the verses from hearing them sung by collectors of songs and ballads in their area.

As this book focuses on songs and poems mainly from the Blackwater area, some of the stories relate to happenings on and around the Blackwater Bank as well as along the adjacent seashore. The Bank was a notoriously dangerous area and the scene of many shipwrecks.

At least three of the songs in this collection are of ships that foundered on the Bank and, two of them, Pomona and Lofty Cavavaille, have similar wording in some verses and are sung to the same air.

John Breen

The Lofty Cavavaille

Words: Unknown

Air: Pomona

Singer: Grace Murphy

You feeling hearted Christians of high and low degree, I hope you pay attention and listen unto me, A loss of life and property upon Blackwater shore, Leaves orphans, wives and mothers a sad tale to deplore.

The eighteenth of December, it was the fateful date, The sky had a gloomy aspect, pregnated with sad fare; O’er the celestial orbs of light great sable clou ds were drew, As in the east horizon a ship appeared in view.

She proved to be a Frenchman, the Lofty Cavavaille; Jehovah seemed to favour her with a sweet and pleasant gale, Her noble captain Ormsby, no danger e’er betook, Until Blackwater sand-bank that fateful night he struck.

When the gallant vessel struck the Bank her every sail did jibe. “Come, lower your boats, make no delay,” the noble captain cried. But Boreas blew in fury, and so without delay, The repeated roaring billows washed all the boats away.

But Providence ordained it so, whom we shall ever thank, For on the flow of water she drifted from the Bank. Her cable and her bower were instantly hove out, Besides her strongest hawser, to bring the ship about.

Yet in their case was no better for her steerage tore away, And Boreas blew with vengeance until the break of day, And at the glimpse of daylight Blackwater Tower they see, And Tuskar’s grand revolving light they had it on their lee.

The steady crew worked hard, indeed, their precious lives to save, Contending with the foaming flood and mountains high each wave, But Boreas and rude Neptune together did agree, And threatening rose up from the deep in direst calamity.

Her anchorage and her moorage they quickly did give away; On Blackwater beach their barque was cast by the repeated sea, Their new ship to pieces split, which caused each soul to weep; And twenty-seven fine young men lay slumbering in the deep.

Her bills of lading they were filled with precious merchandise; The produce of Asia Minor and Zanzibar likewise, The Cape of Ottahette and far Honduras Bay, Jahoga’s Sound where wealth abounds in rich Amerikay.

Now to conclude and finish my sad and tragic tale, For those that were the victims God’s mercy we appeal. And may those noble French tars from every crime be free, And may their souls in glory shine and forever happy be.

Source: Father Ranson’s ‘Songs of the Wexford Coast’. It is recorded that the French ship ‘Cavavile’ was wrecked on the Blackwater Bank on 18th December 1768. Captain Ormsby and twenty seven crew were lost. She was returning from France to Tahiti. While the spelling of the name diiffers in the two accounts, it is assumed that this must be that same ship as Tahiti is mentioned in the song.

The Vivandeer

Words: Miley Roche

Air: Traditional Singer: Maeve Townsend

Come all ye gallant seamen bold of high and low degree, And likewise pay attention and listen unto me, ’Tis of the sea that you will hear and you’ll give a ringing cheer, All for the noble rescue of the gallant Vivandeer.

This was a new built vessel, material good and sound, A circumnavigator, to sail the ocean round. She was manned by noble seamen as I do now suspect, But they left her on Blackwater Bank, a dire and total wreck.

The tide going round the Raven Point, the owners they may thank, For ’twas on the flood of water she wafted from the Bank. Forlorn and abandoned, the truth I now will say, She drifted north before the wind all out from Wexford quay.

The men from Tinnaberna bold, to danger could not yield, For fearless were their forbears on either flood or field. They launched their boats without delay, no danger did they fear, And one of those bold seamen stepped aboard the Vivandeer.

Myles Brien, he mounted on a horse, to Wexford he did steer, Saying ‘Eleven men and my brother, Jem, are aboard the Vivandeer’, Tom King he took the helm just at the gloom of night, Saying ‘Cheer up me boys, for Wexford’ and they raised the Tuskar light.

When the news of this disaster had reached old Wexford town, The tug-boat and her gallant crew, with courage hastened down, To help those worthy fishermen, she came without delay, And brought the gallant Vivandeer safe into Wexford Quay.

This song is also featured in Fr Joseph Ranson’s ‘Songs of the Wexford Coast’ and is sung by a number of Wexford singers including John Furlong and his brothers, Maeve Townsend, Phil Berry and Ronan Berry. The incident referred to in this ballad occurred in August 1885 and the correct name of the vessel was probably the French ‘Vivandière’, a term which refers to women attached to military regiments to sell provisions to an army in the field. The vessel was caught on the Wexford side of the Blackwater bank and had been abandoned by her crew and set adrift. The Vivandeer came afloat on a high tide and floated north where it lay adrift off Tinnaberna. Twelve men from Tinnaberna rowed out to the vessel. Myles Brien rode a horse to Wexford town in order to notify the authorities so that the men would later receive the salvage money.

Pomona

Words: Unknown

Air: Traditional Singer: John Breen

As I roved out one morning just at the early dawn, For to consult the muses down by a grassy lawn, There I met with Pandora, in confusion she was tossed, Saying, ‘on Blackwater's sandbank four hundred lives were lost’.

On the twenty-seventh of April from Liverpool set sail, That gallant ship Pomona with a sweet and pleasant gale. Bound for the land of plenty, for ‘freedom’ was her toast, And nothing interrupted her 'til on the Wexford coast.

Her crew was thirty-five, all seamen stout and bold, Besides four hundred passengers that never were controlled. Then by fictitious reckoning most cruelly she was tossed On Blackwater's shoals or sand-banks, or coral reefs or rocks.

Confusion seemed to rule the ship though guided by each light; Both fore and aft they showed her course, and that in lustre bright. Besides the gentle siren on the surface did appear: ‘Stand by, my boys, a south-east course; of yonder bank keep clear.’

Soon after that she struck the bank, and then we may suppose Unto the God of glory each conscience did disclose, Petitioning for mercy to the great good god on high, With mountain billows roaring beneath the dismal sky.

With her rigging and her bulwark and her steerage torn away Wasn't that a dismal sight to see in Wexford bay?

'Twas in that dreadful crisis her captain stood amazed; With cruelty he bound them down to meet their watery graves.

He threw out bower and hawser to sink her in the deep, Which leaves each unoffending in a watery grave to sleep. The fate of these poor passengers was dismal for to see; On bended knees they meet pale death and wide eternity.

But our Saviour that redeemed us was bound in Pilate's hall; And in the midst of dangers on him we all should call. From the Annas and the Caiphas protected may they be, The souls for whom He shed his blood, and died on Calvary.

There was one noble passenger, I do not know his name, But he deserves to be inscribed upon the roll of fame. He nobly jumped into the boat when launched into the deep, And for his comrades left behind he bitterly did weep.

Now to conclude and finish my sad and tragic tale; For those that fell the victims his mercy we appeal; And to their great Creator for them we'll ever pray That he may cancel all their sins upon the judgement-day.

This song is a ballad about the shipwreck of ‘Pomona’ on 27th/28th April 1859 off the coast of Wexford on the Blackwater Bank, as a result of which almost 400 lives were lost.

Built in America, the ship was designed to bring passengers to there and was considered the equivalent at the time as a luxury liner would be now. Most of the passengers were from the North-west of Ireland and had made their way to Liverpool to board a ship for the voyage to America. Pomona happened to be in Liverpool and because of the large number of people requiring passage it was convenient to use that ship. The potato famine in Ireland was still hav ing an effect and work, food and money were in short supply. Thus America was an attractive prospect for many of the Irish poor.

Pomona sailed from Liverpool on 27th April in a favourable wind. For some reason (called ‘fictitious reckoning’ in the song), when the ship was sailing on the Wexford coast, the Captain, apparently mistaking the Arklow lightship for Tuska r lighthouse, ordered the crew to take a south-westerly heading, thinking this would bring them round the Tuskar Rock and along the Southern coast to head for the Atlantic and America. Unfortunately turning South-westerly meant the ship was grounded on the Blackwater Bank and disaster ensued.

Because of the darkness and the weather conditions nobody on land was aware of the danger and it was only at first light when a few bodies were washed ashore that residents along the coast realised there was a disaster. By that time most of the crew had taken to the lifeboats and, after reaching the shore, had moved from the area as quickly as possible to avoid any awkward questioning.

Most passengers had been in the hold of the ship and the Captain had ordered that the covers be closed thus leaving the passengers locked in with no way of escape. Captain Merrihew was among those who lost their lives in the disaster and bodies were washed up along the Wexford coast for some time afterwards.

Local Heroes

“One man with a dream, at pleasure, Shall go forth and conquer a crown; And three with a new song’s measure Can trample an empire down”

The poet, Arthur O’Shaughnessy is quoted here to highlight the importance of the local hero. Every area has such men and women who are deemed immortal by their peers, having earned this acclaim in varying areas of endeavour.

The cultural climate of space and time dictate the level of artistic praise, but, for the most part, these verses of local heroes are known only to those living in a small confined area. Neighbouring parishes and communities would not know of these verses and show little or no interest in them.

These verses, mainly in narrative format, fact or fictitious, ridiculous or satirical, hilarious or sarcastic, are parochial and insular, but, kept vehemently alive through the generations, adamant in keeping their particular customs, traditions and history of their own place alive thus ensuring that they are passed on from generation to generation. Thus oral tradition is the bedrock of traditional singing and filters through the rich tapestry that is the Blackwater songscape.

Songs about local heroes forever paint pictures and images of movers and shakers, of dreamers of dreams, believers and achievers, of music makers.

Senan Lillis

The Ballad of Mike Carroll

Words: Frank Callery

Air: Original by Frank Callery

Ballyconnigar mourned your loss, Mike Carroll. Blackwater gave you life - and your death; But here among your folk in County Wexford Your name and your loss remembered yet.

As the convoy sailed by Ratlin off to Alba, The storm it cast your ship to far Islay, Where so many lost their lives in deep black water And for years in lone Kilchoman, with you lay.

All were young men going to war, with fears, but eager. But those seas that crushed Armada, raised their head; Wild horses of the deep raced to crush you and to heap The bodies of the young among the dead.

Chorus

Lost were the sailors, lost in that black sea; Black water that had claimed them near the shore of far Islay, And you so far from home, among the hundreds who had groaned, But your tale, and your loss, still sings to me.

Back in Queen’s, where Nellie waited for your coming ‘Til the tragic story broke and brought that grief. “So many young men dead, and so far from home,” they said, All that loss for which their sorrow had to weep.

The Navy brought them home in times of peace; But your Captain, near his sunken ship still lies; Far from all who fell, in that black water’s towering swell He rests beneath those Hebridean skies.

At Ballyconnigar there’s a road down to the sea And the waves that come to shore, they sing to me Of the Wexford men who lie, far from Blackwaterside Whose lives were lost on foreign lands or sea.

Chorus

Home are the sailors, home from that black sea; Black water that had claimed them near the shore of far Islay And you still far from home, and your Captain lies alone; But your tale, and your loss still sings to me.

Ballyconnigar mourns, your loss, Mike Carroll. Blackwater gave you life - and your death; But here among your folk in County Wexford Your name and your loss remembered yet.

When Senan Lillis heard the story of Ballyconnigar native Mike Carroll he decided the event should be commemorated in some way. He gathered the relevant information and passed it on to song-writer Frank Callery who composed this song in 2019. It is the story of Mike Carroll who was born in 1891, one of eleven children of Thomas and Margaret Carroll. Having emigrated to America he joined the army. In 1918, during World War 1, Mike was on board the Otranto which was part of a convoy heading for the Western Front when two ships collided just off the coast of

the Scottish island of Islay. Hundreds were drowned, including Mike Carroll. Mike had married Nelly Reilly just before going to war. The American troops were buried on Islay but were repatriated to America in 1920. The Captain’s remains were buried on Islay in accordance with his wishes and the tradition of the Captain remaining with his ship. Mike Carroll was laid to rest in St. Agnes’ Section, Calvery Graveyard, New York

Blind Jane

Words: James and Marcella Walsh

Air: God Save Ireland

Singer: Pat Leacy

God save Ireland, say the heroes, God save Ireland, say we all. On Blackwater Bridge we lie, Where Blind Jane she lost her eye, And she’ll never join Lame Paddy any more.

Chorus

Tramp, tramp, tramp the boys are marching, Up comes Lame Paddy in the rear, And he swore by all above, That he’d never fall in love, Since the night that Blind Jane pulled out all his hair.

Oh, it was a gallant fight On Blackwater Bridge that night, When Blind Jane and Paddy Kelly opened fire, Paddy’s crutch he freely used, Jane ferociously abused, And she swore by all above she was no liar.

“No surrender” was her cry, “Although you’ve left me with one eye, I’ll let you know that I am Blind Jane this very night,” Soon the fight was easily won, The odds on Jane were two to one, ‘Queen of Tinkers’ she was crowned, she’d won the fight.

This song features an account of a ‘disagreement’ which took place on Blackwater Bridge one night involving an altercation between a couple from the Travelling Community. The Castle Road (between Crosshue and Castle Talbot) in Blackwater was a popular place for Travellers to camp up to the 1950’s where they plied their trade making household utensils from tin. These were supplied to locals and also to Forestals’ Shop in Blackwater, where the Blackwater Lodge now stands.

Tom Corrigan

Words: Hugh Doyle

Air: Big John

Singer: Hugh Doyle

Well this is a story of a man we all know, Wears a ten-gallon hat, walks very slow, Big Tom! He stood six feet tall and four feet wide, could eat half a bull, With a salad on the side. Big Tom!

Chorus Big Tom, Big Tom, Big Bad Tom, Big Tommmmm.

Now they said at school he’d be a failure, But Tom went on to become a sailor. He sailed the seas for many a year, Sank two ships and rammed a pier. Big Tom!

Now when them sea legs they did retire, A Public House, Tom did acquire, He ruled his Pub with an iron fist, Insulting customers whilst getting pissed, Big Tom!

Now old horsebox as he’s sometimes known, Could be alright if he didn’t groan, He’d work all day, if it wasn’t for the sack, Where most of the time you’d find him on his back. Big Tom!

He’d sing a song, he’d give it a lash, Mainly a number by Johnny Cash, And seeing as smoking was his one desire, We should have set his ring on fire, Big Tom!

Now Old Tommy started losing weight, Dancing all night and staying out late, And whilst he learned how to shuffle those feet, He still couldn’t get the hang of those teeth. Big Tom!

He’ll be pulling pints ‘til his dying day But only if we decide to stay, And when he’s died and gone to hell, His head stone will just read, “See! Told you, I was nearly well.”

Corrigans pub in Blackwater started a competition in 1999 called ‘The Pisspot Competition’. This was in memory of ‘The Doc’ O' Connell, an old gent who would often give a blast of a song and then argue with Dinny Leacy that he was a better singer than him. It wasn’t long before the Landlady Mary Corrigan was nominated as a judge and the boys would go head to head at the singing. This is how ‘The Pisspot Competion’ was born. The project continued to grow year after year with as many as twenty people taking part. The only rule was that you had to sing without accompaniment. Hugh Doyle wrote this song about Tom Corrigan, the landlord of the pub, in the year 2013. The judges that year were Senan Lillis, Dinny Leacy and Kathleen Foley. Hugh Doyle was announced the winner for his performances of the Johnny Cash song ‘Walk Tall’ (performed from atop a high stool) and this song ‘Tom Corrigan’. Thanks to Tommy McInerney for providing the vocals on the chorus.

Paddy and Two Micks

Words: John Kickham

Air: Murphy’s Running Dog

Singer: Denis Carroll

Down on a dark and lonely shore

At Wexford’s Ballinaclash, Three boys sat sighing mournfully, Pockets empty they had no cash. The butts they smoked lay smouldering Like fireflies in the sand, It was no joke without a smoke And more than they could stand.

They talked of all the ways and means By which they’d make money, Of making blocks or thinning beet Or keeping bees for honey. They searched the strand for sea prizes, A can of oil or sticks

But ill luck dogged the footsteps Of Paddy and two Micks.

Now a desperate situation needs A desperate remedy, And mind, this is no fishy tale They resolved to put to sea. They dragged the boat down to the tide Though she was undermanned, Those boys were so determined As they pushed off from the land.

It was Pat that acted skipper And fit it should be so, One Mick became the helmsman

So the other had to row.

And all went well upon the swell Of the gentle heaving foam, ‘Til the gallant craft, both fore and aft Was far away from home.

They cast their nets with ease and care And skilfully unerring

They knew of old, the enemy

That cold and crafty herring. And then they prayed so earnestly And whispered to the wind.

With their eyes turned up to heaven

Sure you’d think they’d never sinned.

But hark the wind is stronger

Now it’s freshened to a squall

‘We’ll tarry here no longer

It’s time to make a haul.’

They proved the nets and counted

A hundred herring choked

The raging waters mounted

The poor crew skin deep soaked.

They steered the boat on towards the shore

Their breasts filled up with pride, So full of glee our heroes three

Forgot about the tide.

Into the raging breakers

Three gallant lads, the crew, But the skipper lost his footing

And now there’s only two.

The oarsman and the pilot

Put up a splendid fight,

But the sea rose up in mountains

That dark and stormy night.

And now there came a mighty wave

It burst upon the strand

A half a hundred herring

Was all that reached the land.

Oh sad indeed it is my tale

Those boys were seen no more With a tilley lamp, each stormy night We searched along the shore. The years rolled by, we ceased to cry For all we found were sticks And that’s the sorry story, lads… Of Paddy and two Micks.

During the 1940’s the Kickham family spent all their summer holidays in Ballinaclash. In those days the Blackwater coast was second home to many Enniscorthy folk. The songwriter, John Kickham, became friends with Paddy Kirwan, Inch, Mike Carroll, Ballina and Mike Belvin, Ballinaclash, and the song concerns these three local lads. John obviously didn’t let truth spoil a good song and the three characters lived for many years afterwards – this is a satirical song and bears no resemblance to reality!

Paddy Kirwan died in 1981, Mike Belvin died in 1996 and Mike Carroll died in 2010. In another twist of fate, Paddy Kirwan married John Kickham’s sister-in-law and Mike Carroll’s sister married John Kickham’s brother-in-law! Oh, for the intrigue of country romance!

The Nigglers of Ballyvaloo

Lyrics: Pierce Lacey

Air: Bold Thady Quill

Singer: Dinny Leacy

From Humphrey Curran’s the boys came all strolling, With scuts of moustaches not long started budding, With fanciful pipes they had briar, clay and wooden, Saying ‘We’re the bold nigglers from Ballyvaloo. We’re a gay bunch of fellows and on for Blackwater, The distance is only two miles and a quarter, Before we come back sure we’ll have someone’s daughter, For we’re the bold nigglers from Ballyvaloo’.

There’s Jimmy and Golden, Tommy and Miley, Two Malones and Howlin came leisurely strolling, Jack Cushe’s mare ass she was very near foaling, When she saw the bold nigglers from Ballyvaloo. Coming down by Kate Connolly’s the rain was fast pouring, The children at Roche’s were screaming and roaring, Old Hyde’s billy pig sure he was loudly snoring, And he dreamt he saw nigglers from Ballyvaloo.

They walked down the road left, right and centre, Each man off Shipley’s old block took a splinter, They knocked at Kit Owney’s and quickly did enter, Saying ‘We’re the bold nigglers from Ballyvaloo’. Miss Walsh danced with Tobin, Miss Tobin with Miley, Dan Murphy stepped slyly around Maggie Reilly, And brave Kitty Owney, she winked rather shyly, At nice Billy Leary from Ballyvaloo.

They came to the bridge and they all talked together, It wasn’t of crops nor it wasn’t of weather, They talked to their colleagues like birds of a feather, And threatened to take them to Ballyvaloo. Bridge Butler ran out with her long handled beezom, Saying ‘Damn your eyes Doherty why don’t you seize them’, For they made the girls cry by the way they did squeeze them, And threatened to take them to Ballyvaloo.

At the sight of the beezom they all grew faint hearted, From Blackwater Bridge they quickly departed, And it wasn’t very long ’til they were back where they started, At bold Humphrey Curran’s in Ballyvaloo.

Any mention of this song usually results in the question ‘what’s a niggler?’ Put simply, a niggler is ‘one who niggles’, or as Dinny Leacy replied to the question: ‘a niggler is a loose man in search of a loose woman’!

The 'Nigglers from Ballyvaloo ' dates from the mid 19th Century when chaps from the Curracloe area assembled at Curran’s at Ballyvaloo Cross and walked to Blackwater full of the joys of Spring. Their light hearted nature endeared them to everyone, including the young girls along the route. Various encounters en route are mentioned until Bridge Butler, who died in 1872, put a 'halt to their gallop'. The audio used on the CD is taken from a recording by Mick Butler.

Father Stafford 1798

Words: John Furlong

Air: Traditional

Singer: John Furlong

In ’98 in Wexford there were many wanted men, But I’d like to tell you of a priest who was on the blacklist then, He was Father Nicholas Stafford and his flock he proudly led, It was then that Hunter Gowan set off to have his head.

He was chased from Riverchapel like a fox before the hound, He fled across the country evading every sound, ’Til just outside of Gorey he found a place to rest, The stately home of Cooke’s where they cared him with the best.

They hid him from the yeomen who were searching high and low, In every shed and dwelling where they thought he might go. They followed him to Cooke’s house and inquired if he was there, And Mrs Cooke she answered: “No priest is staying here”.

From being so long on the run his health was almost gone, But when he gained in strength it was time that he moved on, To his home in Ballyvoodock, the place where he was born, In the parish of Blackwater on a clear September morn.

They gave to him a white horse to help him on his way, And just before he left he turned around to say: “May you always have a white horse and may God be with you too, Though we’re of different faith I owe my life to you”.

For his last few remaining years he stayed at his brother’s home, For involvement in the Rising he was denounced by Rome, He died in eighteen eleven, a fine priest loyal and true, And they laid him down to rest in his grave in Ballyvaloo.

Fr Nicholas Stafford who was born at Ballyvoodock in 1753 was a curate in Riverchapel at the time of the 1798 rebellion. A list of persons regarded as leaders in the Rebellion was found by General Lake in the house of the military governor and included the name of Fr Stafford and so he became a ‘wanted’ man. The yeomen did everything in their power to capture him. To quote one source ‘He was hunted like a wild beast from his curacy in Riverchapel’ but after many trials and hardships he succeeded in reaching Ballytegan, outside Gorey, where a Protestant family by the name of Cooke lived. John Furlong set about writing this song at the request of Larry Mythen, from Ballingowan, Blackwater, a great local historian. Fr Stafford was an ancestor of both Larry and John. It was Larry’s belief that his story should be told in ballad form and he was most grateful to John for writing it.