Tadgh Hughes Recitations
A Chara,
I was pleasantly surprised on going through your
excellent web site to discover the recitation
"Love" subscribed by Sean Kelly of Clifden. Sean
and myself are former comrades, having served as
members of An Garda Siochaha in the Division of
Galway West. The said recitation was the sole
preserve of one Tadhg Twomey late of Aharas,
Ballingeary. Tadgh would hold any audience spell
bound when he gave his rendition. He was known
locally as "Tadgh Hugh".
I
knew this man very well as he was a very close
associate of our family, spending many days and
nights at our house. During some of those visits
he gave me the honour of writing down 4 of his
other recitations, which
gives me very much pleasure in now
reproducing for your site. Apart from having
this great gift of delivering recitations and
being a raconteur he also possessed other
skills, which I will reveal, with those very
gifted pair of hands he possessed. I well
remember him performing the art of basket making
on our farm at Rathagaskig. He produced 4 types
of baskets, all of which would be in big demand
long before they were made. These were made with
hazel twigs, which reproduced themselves every 3
years. The basket types being (a) The "kitch",
which was used for drawing turf out of the bog.
It measured roughly 3foot high by 2 wide by 2
deep. It had 2 slots at the top to accommodate a
rope, for the purpose of fixing it over the
shoulders. It was usually placed on a ramp, on
the turf bank, while being filled, - sounds like
a definition of hardwork. (B) was the message
basket, which was made of finer twigs than used
for (a) It would measure roughly 18 inches in
diameter and roughly 18 inches high, completed
with a semi-circular handle. This was in very
popular demand by housewives. Who used it as a
message basket, it being so designed to fit on
the carrier of a bike . (C) was the egg basket.
This would be roughly half the size of the one
described at (B), A bed of hay would be placed
on the bottom on which would be placed a layer
of eggs. This exercise could be repeated until
the basket was full. (D) This was a type of an
ornate basket which could be used for many
purposes. This was usually very small and made
of light twigs and was designed as requested.
Though this was not generally known Tadgh was an
expert when it came to tying fishing flies. In
my mid teens it is many the time he asked me to
get him feathers of Woodcock, snipe and grouse.
Having seen the finished product it certainly
looked a work of art. These flies would be given
only to the very close friends, one of whom
would be the late Denny Cronin, Gougane.
In the post war era – early l950s – Tadgh Hugh
was in his element and by the same token a very
lucrative business, in the trapping and snaring
of rabbits, which were in high demand in
Tadgh Hugh made a lasting impression on the many
people that he encountered during his life and
none more so than at threshing balls, which were
widely held during the l930s and l940s. My late
father, Dan Lehane, Rathagaskig owned a
threshing set during this era – in fact it was
the first rubber tyre tractor in the area.
Annually he travelled the Kerry area during the
autumn and early winter. His crew consisted of
Tadgh Hugh, Jerh Kelleher, Aharas and a Mike
Buckley from Clondrohid. Thus the opportunity
for attending "Ball nights" where Tadgh was no
doubt the centre of attraction with his
recitations. In the early l980s , in the course
of my duty as a member of the Garda Siochana, I
called on a house at Moulykevane, Headford, Co.
Kerry one evening. One word borrowed another and
on discovering who I was they immediately asked
about "Tadgh Hugh" even some of the people
present could still recall portions of the
recitations
Tadgh though small in stature was stout at
heart. He certainly, by his disposition, brought
hope and brightness to many a person on the
darker days of their lives. He was a genuine
friend. He was also possessed of some very fine
proverbs in the native tongue and more is the
pity that they now are lost. Should he have
lived into a later decade perhaps he would have
been immortalised
by some author.
He lived at Aharas with his brother Sean Hugh
and his wife Julia. Sean will be remembered by
my generation for his fine turn out every Sunday
of his horse and trap – the brass decorations on
the horse tackling were a sight to behold
I hope that this will in some small way help to
keep the memory of a silent and gentle genius
alive
I give hereunder his recitations.
Sincerely
Pat Lehane.
THE COALQUAY WEDDING.
In the year of Our Lord, 1906 in Sweet July When
the leaves were Green
There was a wedding held one day near to the
place they call the Coalquay
And now I most solemnly declare I’ll tell ye all
I saw there.
Such a rabble there came from Caren’s shore
about 11 and 20 score
Of tinkers, tailors, soldiers, sailors, barbers,
brewers, bakers
Cobblers, Carpenters and brogue makers, seamen,
fishermen and divers
But the jolliest of all were the motor drivers.
Before the Coshaire there came a multitude I
cannot name
With harps, fifes and fiddles too, They were a
funny and jolly crew..
They all got seated around a barrel of treble X
stout –
And at intervals they had at will plenty of
buttermilk to drink their fill.
Delicious food was next brought in on large
dishes - made of tin Lobsters, oysters and
cowheels, cockles, muscles and fresh eels,
Hens, cocks, ducks and geese, five stripper
goats and 9 old beefs,
Lambs, rams, ewes and wethers, five sheeps heads
and one goats udder.
Then Pat rushed in his rustic pride, his bunny
blossom by his side
Her father he was a jolly old blade - he was a
souper by trade.
At the Supper he ate too much jelly and out in
the night got a pain in his belly
And you could hear his shout " O my God, my
belly break.
And now the truth to ye I’II tell his daughter
he did fortune well.
She got a Cuckoo, a tub, a plate, a can, a
ladder, a trencher and a pan,
A knife and fork a po, a spit, a reel a three
legged stool and a spinning wheel.
Of flax and toe she got three stone and of
donkeys she got 94
And the promise of the Jennet’ s foal.
She wore a bonnet on that date and it was made
from the skin of a buck goat.
They danced , they sang and they played, but,
between the kettle
And the teapot they spoiled the tea .
And if they don’t live happy that we may.
THE CONVICT’ CONFESSION.
With the Sign of the Cross on my Forehead, as I
kneel on this cold stony floor.
I kneel at your feet Reverent Father, with no
one, but, God, to the fore.
I have told you the faults of my boyhood, the
folly and sins of my youth
And now about this crime of my manhood, I’II
speak to you with the same open truth.
You see, Sir, This land was our people’s for 90
long years was their toil.
What once was a bare hungry mountain is a rich
fruit bearing soil.
T’was our hands built the walls of this cabin,
Where our children were born and bread,
Where our weddings and Christenings were merry,
Where we waked and lamented our dead.
We were always good friends with the Landlord we
paid the rent to the day.
It wasn’t our fault if our heart’s sweat he
squandered and wasted away,
On the cards, on the dice and on the racecourse
and often in deeper disgrace,
That no tongue could relate without bringing a
blush to an honest man’s face.
But the day came at last they looked for, their
Castles estates and the lands
Which they held in trust for the people passed
away from their hands.
Our place too Sir, went to the Auction and by
many the acre was sought.
What cared not the stranger who purchased when
he had the good soil he bought.
The Old fold were gone, thank God for that, to a
place where neither troubles
Or cares can pursue. But, I had a wife and young
children
And Father, I didn’t know what to do.
Well, I said I’d talk to the new man and tell
him about me and about mine
And all the money I gathered together I’d place
in his hand for a fine.
I chased him to hour and to office and
everywhere I thought he’d be met.
I offered him all he’d put on it, but, no ‘twas
the land he should get.
I prayed only as meant to God pray, but, my
prayers were spurned and denied.
No matter how just my poor right was, that
wretch had the law to side.
I was young and only a few short years married
to one with a voice like a bird.
When she sang the wild songs of our country
every feeling within me was stirred.
I see her before me this moment, her foot
wouldn’t bend a traneen.
Her laughing lips lifted to kiss me my own
darling bright eyed Coleen.
Ah ‘tis often with joy I watched her soft arms
fondle our boy,
Till he silenced the song of her joy.
Whist, Fr, have patience one moment until I wipe
this big drop from my brow.
O Fr, I’II try not to curse him, but, I tell,
you don’t preach to me now.
You are exciting yourself, yes, l know it, but,
the story is now nearly done.
Fr, your own breast is heaving I see the tears
down from you run.
Well he threatened, he coaxed, he ejected for I
clung on to that place that was mine- far more
than it was his . Sir, and told him so straight
to his face.
But the money I had melted from me making in
making a bid for my own
And a beggar with three helpless children out on
the road I was thrown.
Ah yes there was another that never drew breath.
The neighbours were good to us always, but, what
can they do against death.
For my wife and children before me lay dead and
by him they were killed
That is as sure as I am kneeling before you to
own my own share of the guilt.
I laughed all concealing to scorn I didn’t give
a wrap for what I said
When my wife was a corpse in the barn and a
bundle of straw for a bed.
The blood through my veins rushed to madness did
they think a man was a log.
I tracked him once more for the last time and
shot him that night like a dog’.
Yes Fr. I shot him -I did it.
Let those who make laws for the land look to it
for justice at judgement
For the blood that is red on my hands.
If I drew that piece, ‘twas they primed it,
which left him stretched cold on the sod, and
from their bar where l got my sentence I appeal
to the bar of my God,
The mercy I never got from them the right in
their hands is unknown,
Fr, I’ll say that l am sorry, l took the law
into my own.
I stole out that night in the darkness, in anger
in grief and despair
And I drove the black soul from his body without
giving him time to say prayer,
Now Fr, you have the whole story. May God
forgive him and me for my sins.
To-morrow my life is ending, but, for the young
ones, you see it begins.
Will you look after our young orphans.
May God bless you and now I am at peace and
prepared for the death
That to-morrow is stating me straight in the
face.
PAUD O’ DONOGHUE.
The yeos were in Dunshaughlin and the Hessions
in Dunrea
And spread through the plains of Monyalty were
the Lancers of Rea
And Roden’s Godless troopers ranged from Skryne
to Mullachau
When hammered were the pike heads first by Paud
O’Donoghue.
Young Paud he was a brave a lad as ever hammer
swung
And the finest hurler you would meet the lads of
Meath amongst
And when the wrestling match was over no man
could boast,
He threw the dark haired smith of Curraghglass,
Paud O’Donoghue.
But ninety eight’s dark season came and Irish
hearts grew sore,
The pitchcap and triangle the patient fold
outwore.
The smith he thought of
I’ll forge some steel for freedom, said young
Paud O’Donoghue.
And so in Curraghlass each night was heard the
anvil ring,
While scouting on the roadway were Hugh and
Phelim King
And Duffy’s Matt and Dickey’s Pat and Mickey
Gleeson too’
While in the forge for
But a traitor crept amongst them and soon was
sold the secret
To the Captain of the Yeomen for the ready
Saxon’s Gold
A troop burst out one evening from the woods of
lone Kilbrue
And soon a rebel prisoner bound was Paud
O’Donoghue.
"Down on your knees you rebel dog" the Yeomen
Captain roared,
while high above his helmet crest he held his
gleaming sword’
"down on your knees to meet your doom, for such
is a rebels due,
but straight as pikeshaft before him stood young
Paud O’Donoghue.
So there upon the roadway, where in childhood he
had played
Before this cruel yeoman he stood quiet
undismayed.
" I’II kneel but to my God, l ne’er shall bow to
you’.
You can shoot me where I stand " said Young Paud
O’Donoghue.
The Captain gazed in wonder he lowered his keen
edged sword,
"here is " he said " a rebel bold fitting to
degrade.
"here, men, unbind him, the Captain’s charger
needs a shoe
The king shall have a workman in young Paud
O’Donoghue".
Now to the forge young Paud is gone, the yeomen
guard the Door
And soon the thunderous bellows is heard to
snort and roar
The Captain stands, with reins in hands while
Padraig fits the shoe.
And when it’s full on short shift he will give
Paud O’Donoghue.
The last strong nail is firmly clinched the
Captain’s horse is shod,
Now rebel bold thine hour has come - prepare to
meet thy God,
But why hold he the horses hoof - there is no
wirk to be done.
Why clinch the hammer so, young Paud O’Donoghue’
A leap, a roar, a staggered groan, the Captain
drops the reins,
And sunk to earth with hammer head sunk deeply
in his brain
And lightly on the saddle fast racing towards
Kilbrue
Upon the captain’s charger sits young Paud
O’Donoghue.
A volley from the muskets a rush of horses feet
He is gone and none can capture the captain’s
charger fleet
And in the night wind backwards comes a mocking
loud "hello"
Go tell the yeomen they have lost young Paud
O’Donoghue
MICHAEL DWYER.
Michael Dwyer and your trusty men are hunted
down the mountains and tracked into the Glen.
Sleep ye not, but, watch and listen, get ready
blade and ball
For the soldiers know your hiding place to-night
in wild Imaal
The soldiers search the valley and before the
break of day
They discover where those heroes, those
undaunted rebels lay
And all around that little cottage they form
into a ring
And call out "Michael Dwyer, surrender to the
king."
Then answered the brave Dwyer " Into this house
we came,
Unasked by those who own it, they are not to
blame,
First let those peaceful; people unquestioned
pass you through
And when they are placed in safety I‘II tell you
what we’II do"
It was done.
"And now" said Dwyer, " your work you may begin
You are over a hundred without and we are four
within
We have heard your haughty summons and this is
our reply.
We are true united Irishmen and we will fight
until we die"
Then burst the war’s red lightning then poured
the leaden rain,
The hills around
re-echoed the thunder peal again
On seeing the soldiers fall around him Dwyer
seized with pride,
But, ah one gallant comrade is wounded by his
side.
Yet there are three remaining, good work they
still can do,.
Their hands are strong and steady, their aim is
quick and true.
But hark the fury shouting the savage soldiers
raise.
The house is on fire around them, the roof is on
a blaze
And brighter every moment the sparkling flames
arose
And louder was their laughter and the cheering
of their foes.
Then spoke the brave McAllister, that sick and
wounded man,
You can escape, my comrades, and this shall be
your plan.
Place in my hand a musket and lie upon the floor
I’II stand before the soldiers and open by the
door
And they will pour into my bosom the fire of
their array
And when their guns are empty dash through the
man’s away.
He stood before the soldiers and revealed to all
their flame
And from their levelled pieces that wishful
volley came.
Out sprang the three survivors for whom that
hero died
But only Michael Dwyer burst through the ranks
outside.
He baffled his pursuers who followed like the
wind.
He swam the river Slaney and left them far
behind
And many is the English soldier he promised soon
would fall.
For those, his gallant soldiers who fell at wild
Immal.