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Home | The Carnaun Centenary Book | Book | Chronicle | Education, Folklore, History, People, Poetry Poems, stories and songs remain vividly with me from my days in Carnaun with my father, Tim O’Regan. Travelling from Dublin, where I now live, to Athenry, brings me across the bridge in Athlone, and many lines from “A Ballad of Athlone ” by Audrey de Vere never fail to come to mind, especially the lively dialogue: “St. Ruth in his stirrups stood up, and cried, ‘I have seen no deed like this in France!’ With a toss of his head, Sarsfield replied: ‘They had luck the dogs! ‘Twas a merry chance!” As a child the long mid-winter journey in “The March to Kinsale” by the same poet filled me with awe and wonder. “O’er many a river bridged with ice, Through many a vale with snow-drifts dumb, Past quaking fen and precipice The Princes of the North are come!” Walking the Burren, a gusty Atlantic breeze surrounding me, recalls The Wild Geese, The Irish Brigade. “Oh little Corca Bascinn, the wild, the bleak, the fair! Oh, little stormy pastures, whose flowers are sweet, if rare! The whole night long we dream of you, And waking think we’re there … Vain dream, and foolish waking, We never shall see Clare”. “Fontenoy” by Emily Lawless, “A Country Road”, “A Misty Afternoon” and “A Drover” by Padraic Colum, come to mind! “To Meath of the Pastures, From wet hills by the sea, Through Leitrim and Longford, Go my cattle and me”. No one need to be reminded of the other poems “A Cradle Song” and “An Old Woman of the Road”. Spring comes and I’m reciting “The Daffodils” by William Wordsworth. Who can remember “To Daffodils” by Robert Herrick? “Fair Daffodils we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early rising sun Has not attain’d his noon”. Another favourite by W. Wordsworth was “To The Cuckoo”. Thomas Hood gave us: “I Remember, I Remember, The house where I was born”. Then there was “I See His Blood Upon the Rose”, by Joseph Mary Plunkett, “The Little Waves of Breffny” by Eva Gore-Booth, “The Pascal Fire of Patrick” by Denis Florence McCarthy, “The Snare” by James Stephens, “The Fiddler of Dooney” by William Butler Yeats and “The Wayfarer” and “The Mother” by Padraic Pearse. The stillness of an April afternoon comes and I’m whispering “Sheep and Lambs” by Katherine Tynan: “All in the April evening, April airs were abroad, The sheep with their little lambs, Passed me by on the road”. At one time I was a little apprehensive of being whisked away by the fairies when we were learning “The Fairies” by William Allingham. “They stole little Bridget For seven years long, And when she came back again Her friends were all gone.” I did not need to be reminded that my name was “Bríd”. What utterly strange but memorable words in “The Donkey” by G.K. Chesterton. “When fishes flew and forests walked And figs grew upon thorn, Some moment when the moon was blood Then surely I was born”. Poor old Father Gilligan in “The Ballad of Father Gilligan” by W.B. Yeats, down on his knees falling asleep from exhaustion, was an unforgettable figure. “He knelt and leaning on a chair He prayed and fell asleep; And the moth-hour went from the fields, And stars began to peep”. Death through war or conflict will always bring to mind “Thomas McDonagh” by Francis Ledwidge. “He shall not hear the bitter cry In the wild sky where he is lain, Nor voices of the sweeter birds, Above the wailing of the rain”. “Mise Rafterí” and “Anois teacht an Earraigh” slipped easily over the tongue as Rafterí had been a character known to the people of Athenry and was laid to rest not too far away in Killeenan, Craughwell. Help was coming in a mysterious way in “Róisín Dubh”. We understood the sadness and desolation of “Cill Chais” with Castle Ellen and Castle Lambert close by. “Cad a dheanfaimid feasta gan adhmad? Ta deireadh na gcoillte ar lár, Níl trácht ar Chill Chais ná a teachlach, ‘S ní chluinfear a cling go brach”. No other poem describes utter loneliness as Padraig Pearse’s “Bean Sléibhe ag caoineadh a Mich” “Brón ar an mbás sé dubh mo chroi-se D’fhuadaigh mo ghrá is d’fhág mé claoite Gan cara gan chompanach faoi dhíon mo thighse Ach an léan seo i’m lár is mé ag caoneadh”. Even if our flights of fancy didn’t succeed in bringing us to Valparaiso we trundled along happily with Sean Phadraigh O’Conaire over small western roads in “M’Asal Beag Dubh”. The intricacies of learning how to buy a donkey, to set up camp, to light a fire and make a decent drink of tea in a billy can in harsh windy weather were all part of the journey. Then there were the stories of Padraic Pearse, “Eoghainín of the Birds” who died mysteriously and flew away with the swallows; Bríd na n’Amhrán” who walked all the way to Dublin to take part in a feis, who won the cup, but died from the shock and hardship of it all. Would that we could remember the cadences of rich Irish phrases in Old Mathias (Sean Mhathias), who never went to Mass, but then Íosagán came to sort him out. “Seán Ó’Duibhir a’ Ghleanna”, “Eamonn an Chnoic” and “Pé ‘n Éirinn Í” were a few of the songs I shall never forgot. Oceans of learning noisily hitting the smoky ceilings and often the master and Missus despairing of us progressing at all. Would that these tattered books hurled to dusty corners were now at hand to replenish and enrich vague youthful memories. – – Written by Rheda Doyle (O'Regan) Published here 05 Feb 2021 Page 195 of The Carnaun Centenary Book – – The Carnaun Centenary A compilation of short articles about the life and times at Carnaun National Sch… Here some recent records: Chronicle Athenry Receives Heritage Status – August 1996 ContributeMany thanks to all our writers, researchers and contributors who have made this collation of writing a meaningful historical record. If you would like to add an article, news, thoughts, opinions, photos or anything else to the Athenry.org Library please contact our Editor, Finbarr O’Regan at: oreganathenry@gmail.com Contact
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Home | The Carnaun Centenary Book | Book | Chronicle | Education, Environment, Folklore, People D’Fhoghlaim na paistiían Ghaeilge ó scéalta go mór mhór scéalta faoi obair na feirme agus an nadúr. San Earrach bhíodh caint ar an dtreabhadh, an fuirseadh agus cur an tsíl leis an gcéachta agus an bracha agus cur an tsíl ón bpráiscín. Sa Samhradh bhíodh baint an fhéir agus baint na móna acu. San Fhomhair bhíodh ar an bhfeirmeoir na barrai a bhaint agus sa nGeimhreadh bhíodh air bia a thabhairt do ainmhithe na feirme. B’iad na scéalta céanna nach mór a bhí in úsáid sa scoil ó bhliain go bliain agus thaithin cuid acu níos mó leis na paistí ná na cinn eile. Thárla go raibh triúr gasúr ó Scoil Charnáin ag iarraidh “An Preparatory Scholarship” a fháil agus sa “Bish” i nGaillimh a bhi orthu an t-agallamh a dhéanamh. Beirt chigire ó Bhláth Cliath a bhi ann. “Cad tá an feirmeoir ag déanamh an t-am seo den bhliain?” an cheist a chuireadh ar an gcéad lad ón scoil seo. “Ag treabhadh agus ag fuirseadh ata sé anois” arsa an buachaill, “ach ní fada anois go mbeidh sé ar an bportach. Is maith leis dul ar an bportach. Eiríonn sé go moch ar maidin. Cuireann sé an t-asal faoin gcarr agus cuireann sé an barra rotha, an sléan agus an laí isteach ann. Suas ar an gcarr leis féin ansin agus ar aghaidh leis ar an bportach”. Ar ndóigh bhí cluas ag an g’keyhole’ ag an Máistir scoile amuigh agus is é a bhí sásta leis an gcéad scoláire. “Agallamh maith” ar seisean leis fein. “Céard faoin gcluiche mór an Domhach seo chaite?” an cheist a cuireadh ar an dara Carnánach. “Níl fhios agam tada faoi” arsa mo dhuine bocht “mar bhí orm dul ar an bportach le m’athair”. D’éirigh m’athair go moch ar maidin. Chuir sé an t-asal faoin gcarr. Chuir sé an barra rotha, an sleán agus an laí isteach ann. Suas ar an gcarr leis ansin agus ar aghaidh leis . . . . ” Agus ar aghaidh leis an scoléire leis an scéal go tapaidh agus nior thug sé seans ar bith do na cigirí aon cheist eile a chur go raibh an t-am caite. “Bhfuil aon sean-fhocal agat a bhuachaill”? arsa cigire nuair a tháinig a triú fear as Scoil Charnán isteach. “Mara bhfuil agat ach pocaide gabhair bí i lár an aonaigh leis” arsa an gasúr le brod. “Maith thú” arsa an cigire. “An raibh tú riamh ar an aonach?”. “Bhi go minic” arsa’n buachaill, “ach bhfearr liom bheith ar an bportach”. “Eirionn mé go moch ar maidin. Cuireann mé an t-asal faoin gcarr. . . . .”. “Is dócha go gcaitheann tú an barra rotha, an sleán agus an laí isteach ann” arsa cigire amháin le droch-mheas. “Bhi an-eolas ag na cigirí as Bláth Cliath ar an bportach” arsa mo dhuine leis an múinteoir nuair a thainig sé amach. “Cé’n faith nach mbeadh taréis an ath-chleachtadh a bhí acu?” arsa an muinteóir agus ba bheag nár bhris sé “cinc a mhuiníl” leis an sceilp a thug sé dhó. “Agus an oiread scéalta eile a mhún mé dóibh” ar seisean leis féin go brónach. – – Written by Finbarr O'Regan Published here 05 Feb 2021 Page 042 of The Carnaun Centenary Book – – The Carnaun Centenary A compilation of short articles about the life and times at Carnaun National Sch… Here some recent records: Chronicle Sir Roger Casement ContributeMany thanks to all our writers, researchers and contributors who have made this collation of writing a meaningful historical record. If you would like to add an article, news, thoughts, opinions, photos or anything else to the Athenry.org Library please contact our Editor, Finbarr O’Regan at: oreganathenry@gmail.com Contact