Scientists were first awakened to the theory of ‘Global Warming’ for the first time here in Ireland, following the destruction of Ballynonty Bridge, near Thurles, in August of 2008.
Well that is, with ‘Tongue in Cheek’ I might add, according to local Ballynonty poet and historian Gerry Cullen; latter who regularly records such significant district occurrences in rhyme.
In fact if you are looking for someone to write a poem about any topic, be it related to matters humorous or material required of a more serious nature, then look no further than this Ballynonty resident lyricist; Tipperary’s answer to the late great Lancashire born poet Robert Service, (1874 – 1958).
(Pictured left Gerry’s serious poetic reflection on Tipperary road traffic accidents, first published and cut in stone at the wonderful Ballynonty Garden of Remembrance back in 2012.)
Anyway back to the topic of Global Warming; hereunder recorded for future generations, the demise of the bridge in Ballynonty, with a veiled environmental warning to each and every resident of this our planet.
(From the pencil of Gerry Cullen.)
The weather is gone wallop and the seasons out of whack,
We’re heading for disaster and down a one way track,
We’ll have to face the music or wise up and be smart,
Or the bridge in Ballynonty will only be the start.
Twas like a big tsunami or the floods in New Orleans,
Or back when Noah built the ark to save the human beings,
But nothing ever read or seen has caused the jaw to drop,
Like the bridge in Ballynonty near Alice Perry’s shop.
The clouds grew dark; the deluge came; the rain was strong and fast,
The stream became a torrent and the bridge just couldn’t last.
The flood flowed down Slieveardagh’s slopes and the dark night turned to day,
And then at dawn, in turmoil, the battered road gave way.
For weeks we’ve taken detours and the moods have struck us all,
And we suffer from depression tryin’ to get to Killenaule,
The “Powers that Be” are out in force; no opening day as yet,
(A week, a month, a year or two, I wouldn’t hold my breath.)
And years into the future the people will recall,
How the curse of “Global Warming” damn nearly took us all.
Don’t prod and poke at nature; we have to stop and think,
For living life the way we do, has brought us to the brink.
Sure you never know Gerry might share some more of his poetry with us into the future. There is, I hasten to add, talks of a limited edition book of poetry shortly to be published, which is eagerly awaited by the many lovers of his localised thought-provoking verse.
“To all of the fallen in their silence we offer our own silence, without judgement, and with respect for their ideals, as they knew them,
and for the humanity they expressed towards each other.”
(Extract from the speech by Irish President Michael D Higgins during the dedication of the Cross of Sacrifice at Glasnevin Cemetery in Dublin this week.)
Dublin born author, Mr Tom Burnell, now resident here in Holycross, Thurles, Co.Tipperary, has penned yet another remarkable factual history book; launched just yesterday entitled “Irishmen In The Great War.” Many of our regular readers will be familiar with Tom’s other publications including “The Wicklow War Dead,” and “Tipperary Casualties of the Great War,” and of course his valued assistance through this website in tracing military family members lost in two great wars.
Tom has taken over twenty-seven Irish newspapers for the period covering the Great War (1914-1918) and has trawled through each and every publication to deliver the most amazing stories of those years, which as we now realise changed our world for ever.
While the book is not necessarily just about Co Tipperary it nevertheless does have many Tipperary people mentioned in it, most of whom survived World War1. Names like:- Miss M. J. Fitzgibbon, Corporal Michael O’Mara (Carrick-on-Suir), Sapper James O’Donnell (Carrick-on-Suir), Private W. Roberts (Clonmel), Corporal A.S. Dowling (Tipperary), Corporal Edward Jackson, (Roscrea), Private Robert Walsh (Carrick-on-Suir), Miss Mary F. Doheny, (Carrick-on-Suir), Sergeant Major Drought Jackson (Roscrea), Captain W. Gibson (Brittas Cashel), Cyril Triscott, Dr Wetterell (Tipperary) and Lance Corporal George White (Knockanvar, Cappawhite).
Contained between these hard covers are the fascinating accounts of the day-to-day lives of men in the front lines; of torpedoed ships; drunken wives, final farewell letters and requests direct from the trenches. There are also many eye-witness accounts of the slaughter as it was happening; battle reports from officers serving in Irish regiments; quirky snippets; chaplains’ sympathetic letters; P.O.W reports of conditions and war poetry.
Here are the tales of the Leinster’s, Munster’s, Connaught’s and Dublin Fusiliers serving in the Ulster Division, 10th and 16th Irish Divisions. We read of medical breakthroughs, paranormal occurrences and miraculous escapes from death.
After the Irish Rebellion of April, 1916, these type of newspaper articles and lists of casualty slowly began to dwindle as here at home Irish hearts would became politically divided.
A cracking great read compiled for the very first time into one single publication and offering a memorable primary source for true lovers of Irish History.
Lament for Thomas MacDonagh – by Francis Ledwidge
“He shall not hear the bittern cry in the wild sky, where he is lain,
Nor voices of the sweeter birds above the wailing of the rain.
Nor shall he know when loud March blows thro’ slanting snows her fanfare shrill,
Blowing to flame the golden cup of many an upset daffodil.
But when the Dark Cow leaves the moor and pastures poor with greedy weeds,
Perhaps he’ll hear her low at morn, lifting her horn in pleasant meads.”
This coming May Bank Holiday Weekend (2nd – 5th May 2014) the town of Cloughjordan [ Map Ref ] here in Co Tipperary invite you to the home of the late great Poet, Writer, Gaelgóir, Dramatist, Patriot and Signatory of the Irish Proclamation, Thomas MacDonagh, (Irish: Tomás Mac Donnchadha; 1st Feb 1878 – 3rd May 1916).
Weekend Programme of Events
(Please do ‘Right Click’ on picture here [Left] to ‘View Image’ of Weekend Programme of events in greater magnification.)
Thomas MacDonagh was born here in Cloughjordan, Co Tipperary, one of eight children born to parents Joseph MacDonagh, latter a schoolteacher and Mary-Louise neé Parker. It was in this environment that he developed a love of music, poetry and education together with a passion for both English and Irish culture. He went on to attend Rockwell College near Cashel at the age of fourteen, where he initially aspired to become a priest or brother, spending several years studying, before realising that this life was no longer for him personally. Soon after, while residing in Co Kilkenny, saw the publication of his first book of poems; “Through the Ivory Gate,” (1902), followed one year later by “April and May,” (1903) and “The Golden Joy,” (1904).
MacDonagh’s lament by Francis Ledwidge, shown above, is a metaphor where “the wailing of the rain” represents the obvious grief associated with MacDonagh’s death. The words “when loud March blows thro’ slanting snows represents the poet’s hope that perhaps out of this historic grief may come something better thus conjuring up vivid images of weather, wild daffodils, both the appearance and sensation that is the present Cloughjordan countryside and which visitors will experience, for themselves, this coming weekend. In Ledwidge’s mind “the Dark Cow leaves the moor,” is a metaphor for Ireland as a nation, in the expectation that things will improve eventually for his beloved country and perhaps MacDonagh’s own execution will become acknowledged as not being totally in vain.
This subject I feel sure will be discussed in even greater debate here in Cloughjordan, Co Tipperary, this May weekend, so teachers do encourage you students to attend.
Cloughjordan May Weekend Programme
The weekend long programme features talks on various aspects of the historic events that shaped our nation. Events extend out into the surrounding countryside, which was a source of inspiration for many of MacDonagh’s poems; a guided walk through Knocknacree Wood, a field trip to sites of heritage interest (Modreeny Medieval Settlement) and numerous exhibitions. Come along and enjoy music and song agus beidh fáilte roimh cách ag an Oíche Ghaelach. ( Latter translation from Irish: “and everyone is welcome at the Irish Night.” )
The talks, a painting workshop, exhibitions and evenings of song and story will take place in the Thomas MacDonagh Heritage Centre, Lower Main Street, Cloughjordan and other venues in the town. In this year of commemorations Thomas MacDonagh, World War I and Cumann na mBan (Irish: Women’s Association) receive special attention. The programme invites people of all ages to reflect on our past, which is manifest in the rich heritage of this area.
Volume VIII in the Cloughjordan Heritage series will be launched on Friday at 8;00 pm. The Thomas MacDonagh Summer School begins at 11.00 am on Saturday. On Sunday Prof. Peadar Kirby presents a talk on MacDonagh and later Dr. Mary McCauliffe will speak on Cumann na mBan. Enjoy a family friendly afternoon with Heritage Games and the MacDonagh Pipe Band from Templemore. The programme concludes on Monday with a guided walk in Knocknacree Wood, a CineClub presentation of “War Horse” (based on WWI) agus Oíche Ghaelach le ceol agus caidreamh. ( Latter translation from Irish: “and Irish Night music and relationships.” )
This area in North Tipperary, “in calm of middle country” (T. MacDonagh’s own words) is rich in heritage and natural environment. Cloughjordan is now home to the International Award Winning Sustainable Community and visitors are welcome to come on a guided tour of the Eco Village on Sunday at 3.00 pm. Stay in the Eco Hostel and in local B&B accommodation. Enjoy the evenings in a friendly festival atmosphere.
Bí linn ag comóradh Tomás Mhac Donnachadha ina bhaile dhúchais. ( Latter translation from Irish: “Join us in commemorating Thomas MacDonagh in his home town.” )
Further information on “Cloughjordan Honours Thomas MacDonagh,” can be found by clicking Here and Here.
Carden’s Wild Domain.
“And the turtle dove sits cooing there, upon the tall oak trees.
The thrush and blackbird warbles loud, their notes come through the breeze.
The cuckoo’s notes are heard to sound along those flowery vales
And echo all the woodland around Carden’s Wild Domain.”
Extract from Lyrics by Rev. Timothy Corcoran (1857-1928)
Very recent public discussions on the “Stalking” of a named RTE1 newsreader; the subsequent arrest of a suspect and the later treatment of the female victim herself by at least one gutter press photographer, leads me to pen this particular article.
John Rutter Carden
John Rutter Carden was born on February 5th 1811 in Oxford, the eldest son of parents John Carden and his wife Ann Rutter. His parents took up residence in Barnane Castle outside Templemore, Co Tipperary in or about the year 1815. In 1822, when John was just 11 years old, his father died. John’s mother Ann then continued to run the large Estate at Barnane until John himself came of age some ten years later.
The once grand Yew Tree Terrace Walk and Barnane Castle, Templemore, Tipperary – Circa 1865.
On inheriting a somewhat run-down Estate, John Rutter Carden set about demanding that tenants on his lands should now pay rent. Under his mother’s management these Irish tenants had paid little or no rent in the past and would now greatly resent being requested to do so under their new landlord, into the future. The inevitable result of this action was that John Carden then began proceedings to evict up to 100 families from their homes on his estate. Because of these evictions Carden’s tenants tried repeatedly to kill him. However all attempts failed, earning him the nickname ‘The Woodcock Carden’ (Scolopax rusticola), because as any lover of gun sports will confirm, Woodcock, when startled, fly with great speed in an erratic and twisting movement, making them difficult to kill while airborne.
Ireland around this period was beginning to be seen as a hostile place (e.g. The Doneraile Conspiracy) in which to live and as a consequence absentee landlords were very common, with some visiting their property only once or twice in a lifetime, and often never at all. These rents acquired in Ireland were then mostly only spent in England, with an estimated £6,000,000 being remitted and spent outside of Ireland in 1842. John, contrary to still locally held beliefs, possibly was not the worst of the Landlord classes then operating in Ireland; he would go on to invest in his locality and even build a local non denominational school for his tenants, offering them free education. He improved the then existing housing stock on his estate and eventually his employee’s and tenants would learn to look on him with a certain respect and admiration, despite he having participated in a couple of them being hanged for an attempt on his life.
Miss Eleanor Louisa Arbuthnot
Miss Eleanor Arbuthnot (1833 – 1894) was the youngest daughter of thirteen children born to George Arbuthnot (1772 – 1843) of Elderslie, Surrey, England and his wife formally Eliza Fraser (1791 – 1834). Her mother died when she was just one year old and by the age of ten her father was also deceased. In 1852, Eleanor and her sister Laura (born 1830), latter three years her senior, were residing with their sister Jane, (Born 1816) who had married (1846) the Hon. Viscount George Gough, latter who lived at Rathronan House, two miles from Clonmel, near to Fethard Co.Tipperary.
Continue reading John Carden Tipperary – Stalker Or A Victim Of Love ?
Lament On The Absence Of The Thurles Clothesline.
The clothesline was a news forecast to the neighbours passing bye. There were no secrets you could keep when clothes hung out to dry.
It also was a friendly link for the neighbours always knew, if company had stopped on bye, to spend the night with you.
For then they’d see those “fancy sheets,” that towel upon the line; they’d see that “special table cloth,” with its elaborate design.
This line announced a baby’s birth from the folks who lived inside, as brand new infant clothes were hung, so carefully with pride.
The ages of their children too, could so readily be known, by watching how their sizes changed; you’d know how much they’d grown.
It also told when illness struck, as extra sheets were hung; your nightclothes and a bathrobe too, when irregularly were strung.
It also said, “On holidays now,” when lines swung limp and bare. It told, “We’re back,” when full lines sagged, with not an inch to spare.
New folks in town were scorned upon, if their wash was dull and grey; as neighbours carefully raised their brows, then turned their eyes away.
But clotheslines now are of the past, for dryers make work much less. Sure now what goes on inside a house, is anybody’s guess.
Ah sure I really miss that way of life; it was a friendly sign, when neighbours knew each other best, by what hung upon their line.