THE TIME I'VE LOST IN WOOING The time I've lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing. Though wisdom oft has taught me I scorn the lore that bought me, My only books Were woman's looks, And folly's all they've taught me. Her smile when beauty granted, I hung with gaze enchanted, Like him, the sprite, Whom maids by night Oft meet in glen that's haunted. Like him, too, beauty won me, But while her eyes were on me, If once their ray Was turned away, Oh! winds could not outrun me. Are those follies going! And is my proud heart growing Too cold or wise For brilliant eyes Again to set it glowing? No -- vain, alas! the endeavor >From bonds so sweet to sever; Poor wisdom's chance Against a glance Is now as weak as ever! -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852)

THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER 'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flower of her kindred, No rose bud is nigh To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh! I'll not leave thee, thou lone one! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow, When friendships decay, And from love's shining circle Thy gems drop away! When true hearts lie withered, And fond ones are flown, Oh! who could inhabit This bleak world alone? -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852)

THE PRIEST OF COLOONY Good Father John O'Hart In penal days rode out To a shoneen in his freelands, With his snipe marsh and his trout. In trust took he John's lands, -- Sleiveens were all his race -- and he gave them as dowers to his daughters, And they married beyond their place. But Father John went up, And Father John went down; And he wore small holes in his shoes, And he wore large holes in his gown. All loved him, only the shoneen, Whom the devils have by the hair, >From the wives and the cats and the children To the birds in the white of the air. The birds, for he opened their cages, As he went up and down; And he said with a smile, "Have peace now." And went his way with a frown. But if when anyone died, Came keeners hoarser than rooks, He bade them give over their keening, For he was a man of books. And these were the works of John, When weeping score by score, People came into Coloony, For he'd died at ninety-four. There was no human keening; The birds from Knocknarea, And the world round Knocknashee, Came keening in that day -- The young birds and old birds Came flying, heavy and sad; Keening in from Tiraragh, Keening from Ballinafad; Keening from Innismurry, Nor stayed for bit or sup; This way were all reproved Who dig old customs up. -- William Butler Yeats Shoneen means upstart. Sleiveen means mean fellow, sneak.

Hi, Don, Be sure and check the Filby volumes at your local genealogy library. Mr. Filby transcribed data from hundreds of passenger lists of emigrants worldwide whose destination was the USA or Canada and vicinity between roughly 1795 and early 1900s. Another idea for Canadian/USA research: If they or their children crossed the Canadian/USA border at any point along the border during the time period of 1895 and circa 1923/24 there would be good information on them on the St. Albans, VT emigration/immigration border-crossing records. The films are soundexed so that all people with the same surname (and similar) who crossed the border during that whole time period can be found on one microfilm, two at the most, depending on how common the surname is. In the case of two films, for example, those with a given name that start with A, B, C, for example would be on the first film containing that surname, while those whose given name began with a letter toward the end of the alphabet would be on the second film. Although the records were stored in Vermont they cover crossings back and forth AT ANY POINT along the border. To my great surprise, I found my father and other family members several times on these records.. He had emigrated from Liverpool on a steamer owned by the Canadian Pacific Railway but got off in Quebec City, Canada and immediately transferred to a CPR train. He traveled across Canada, entering at Blaine, WA. Later, my dad worked in the USA and Canada both, each time he crossed as an "alien" new data was obtained. To my delight, I found other family members (dad's mom and siblings) who used the same route for visits back to visit Liverpool, first crossing the border and leaving for England from Canada. In fact, that is how I found out two of dad's little brothers crossed the Atlantic alone just three months before the Titanic sank! From the St. Albans films I discovered that they left Liverpool on the ship "Empress of Ireland" from Liverpool to visit uncles in the USA. I would never have found this out had I not investigated these border-crossing films. Prior to that, I had no idea that there was a Canada-connection to their Liverpool to the USA destinations. These St. Albans border-crossing microfilms can be found at your local LDS (Mormon) Family History and at branches of your national archive. The soundex film is (M1461). I can't begin to tell you how valuable these films are. Not only do they give traveler and companion information (date of birth, county of birth, parents information, etc.) but they give names and addresses of relatives in the "old" country and those at the "intended destination" They also describe the travelers - hair & eye color, height, weight, identifying scars, health. Best of all, they name the ship, date, and port (if there was one involved in their travels) which will lead you to another set of films (M1464) that contain the actual ships' manifests. Unless you know exactly when and where they arrived by ship, you will need to view film M1461 first. To find the films easily at the LDS FHC enter this number (1472801) in their FHC Catalogue CD program in the film number field. It will bring up all the information you need, and a volunteer will assist you. I have seen New Brunswick information on these films. Have you sent away for his military records? Another wonderful resource is the USA county historical society in the county in which he lived, married, died. Ask them to help you obtain family records such as wills and marriage applications for a donation to their society and subscribe to their wonderful periodical with history of the county and its early families. ---- Original Message ----- From: "dondracek" <dondracek@charter.net> To: <jeanrice@cet.com> Sent: Thursday, December 13, 2001 6:36 AM Subject: re: Smith, McGraw> Just want to let you know that I did receive your e-mail strictly as text mail, no attachment. > Thanks for the information, very interesting. I still would like to find out exactly where Andrew and Annie lived, married, and left Ireland for St. Andrews NB. They had 8 children in St. Andrews before moving to Calais ME, where the ninth one was born.Andrew, and three sons enlisted in the 9th Inf. Reg. ME. Andrew died in SC.Andrew Jr. was wounded (he is my great grandfather), Barnard was a prisoner, and Thomas evidently came out of it okay. Barnard and Andrew moved after marrying in ME, to Minneapolis MN.I am originally from Minnesota, married a Georgian, living in Watkinsville, GA. I am a retired military and a retired educator (college professor and administrator)Appreciate anything you can do to help me. Don Ondracek

THE WOMAN OF THREE COWS O Woman of Three Cows, agra! don't let your tongue thus rattle! Oh, don't be saucy, don't be stiff, because you may have cattle. I have seen -- and, here's my hand to you, I only say what's true -- A many a one with twice your stock not half as proud as you. Good luck to you, don't scorn the poor, and don't be their despiser; For worldly wealth soon melts away, and cheats the very miser; And death soon strips the proudest wreath from haughty human brows -- Then don't be stiff, and don't be proud, good Woman of Three Cows! See where Mononia's heroes lie, proud Owen Mor's descendants. 'Tis they that won the glorious name, and had the grand attendants; If they were forced to bow to Fate, as every mortal bows, Can you be proud, can you be stiff, my Woman of Three Cows? The brave sons of the Lord of Clare, they left the land to mourning; Mavrone! for they were banished, with no hope of their returning. Who knows in what abodes of want those youths were driven to house? Yet you can give yourself these airs, O Woman of Three Cows. Oh, think of Donnell of the Ships, the Chief whom nothing daunted, See how he fell in distant Spain unchronicled, unchanted! He sleeps, the great O'Sullivan, where thunder cannot rouse -- Then ask yourself, should you be proud, good Woman of Three Cows? O'Ruark, Maguire, those souls of fire, whose names are shrined in story: Think how their high achievements once made Erin's greatest glory. Yet now their bones lie mouldering under weeds and cypress boughs -- And so, for all your pride, will yours, O Woman of Three Cows. Th' O'Carrols, also, famed when fame was only for the boldest, Rest in forgotten sepulchres with Erin's best and oldest; Yet who so great as they of yore in battle or carouse? Just think of that, and hide your head, good Woman of Three Cows. Your neighbour's poor; and you, it seems, are big with vain ideas. Because, forsooth, you've got three cows -- one more, I see, than she has; That tongue of yours wags more at times than charity allows; But if you're strong, be merciful -- great Woman of Three Cows. Now, there you go; you still, of course, keep up your scornful bearing. And I'm too poor to hinder you; but, by the cloak I'm wearing, If I had but four cows myself, even though you were my spouse, I'd thwack you well, to cure your pride, my Woman of Three Cows. -- Anonymous, translated by James Clarence Mangan

In Ireland, when a child smiles in its sleep, it is said to be "talking with angels." THE ANGEL'S WHISPER A baby was sleeping, Its mother was weeping, For her husband was far on the wild raging sea; And the tempest was swelling Round the fisherman's dwelling, And she cried, "Dermot, darling, oh! come back to me." Her beads while she number'd, The baby still slumber'd, And smiled in her face as she bended her knee; "Oh blest be that warning, My child's sleep adorning, For I know that the angels are whispering with thee. "And while they are keeping Bright watch o'er thy sleeping, Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me And say thou wouldst rather They'd watch o'er thy father! For I know that the angels are whispering with thee." The dawn of the morning Saw Dermot returning, And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see; And closely caressing Her child, with a blessing, Said, "I knew that the angels were whispering with thee." -- Anonymous

DUMB, DUMB, DUMB There was a jolly blade that married a country maid, And soon he conducted her home, home, home; In ev'ry household art she was comfort to his heart; But alas, and alas, she was dumb, dumb, dumb. She could brew and she could bake, she could wring, wash, and shake, And keep the house clean with her broom, broom, broom; She could knit, card, and spin, and do ev'ry thing; But what good was all that - she was dumb, dumb, dumb. To the doctor then he went with mournful discontent, Saying, "Doctor, dear doctor, I'm come, come, come; I'll pay you fifty pounds - and that in pure gold -- If you make my wife speak that is dumb, dumb, dumb." To the doctor then she went and he cut some little strings, And gave her tongue liberty to run, run, run -- O, 'Twas like a silly brute then her husband she abused, Saying, "You dog, I'll let you know I'm not dumb, dumb, dumb." To the doctor then he went with mournful discontent, Saying, "Doctor, dear doctor, I'm come, come come; My wife is turned scold and with her I cannot hold: I'd give anything at all to have her dumb, dumb, dumb!" "I could freely undertake for to make your wife speak, Though that was not easily done, done, done -- It's not in the power of man, let him do whate'er he can, To make a scolding wife hold her tongue, tongue, tongue." -- Anonymous

PRAYER OF ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI Lord, Make me an instrument of Your peace; Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where there is doubt, faith; Where there is despair, hope; Where there is darkness, light; Where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; To be understood as to understand; To be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned. It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Hi, Jean, Could you keep your eye open for an Irish meal prayer that I could use at Christmas Eve? I have a big family dinner on Christmas Eve, and as I hold up the traditions of my mixed(up) family, we pray before the meal. After the prayer, we break bread. Meaning, we distribute wafer bread to everyone, any kind would do, but we use wafer bread, Oplatki (Polish), (the same kind used as hosts in Catholic Churches and can be purchased at the church or religious stores). Then we make our way around to each person at the gathering, break a small piece from their bread and they from ours, say "Merry Christmas" or whatever you wish, kiss, and eat it. It's a wonderful way to build tradition and bonding within the family. Luke McGarry

Carole at cdcumber@sprint.ca writes: << can anyone tell me how I can find MONKSTOWN in Co Cork >> Carole, The port town of Cobh, located on the Great Island, seven or eight miles SE of Cork City - is across the West Passage from Monkstown, which is on the 'mainland'. Monkstown is a couple of miles south of Passage West and three miles or so NE of Carrigaline. As was previously mentioned, it is located in Monkstown civil parish. Pete Schermerhorn, in the glorious Berkshire hills of western Massachusetts

THREE COLTS EXERCISING IN A SIX-ACRE Three colts exercising in a six-acre, A hilly sweep of unfenced grass over the road. What a picture they make against the skyline! Necks stretched, hocks moving royally, tails flying; Farm-lads up, and they crouching low on their withers. I have a journey to go -- A lawyer to see, and a paper to sign in the Tontine -- But I slacken my pace to watch them. -- Joseph Campbell (1879-1944)

I WILL GO WITH MY FATHER A-PLOUGHING I will go with my father a-ploughing To the green field by the sea, And the rooks and the crows and the seagulls Will come flocking after me. I will sing to the patient horses With the lark in the white of the air, And my father will sing the plough-song That blesses the cleaving share. I will go with my father a-sowing To the red field by the sea, And the rooks and the gulls and the starlings Will come flocking after me. I will sing to the striding sowers With the finch on the flowering sloe, And my father will sing the seed-song That only the wise men know. I will go with my father a-reaping To the brown field by the sea, And the geese and the crows and the children Will come flocking after me. I will sing to the weary reapers With the wren in the heat of the sun, And my father will sing the scythe-song That joys for the harvest done. -- Joseph Campbell (1879-1944)

Hi can anyone tell me how I can find MONKSTOWN in Co Cork,an 1896 obituary says a relative was "born in Monkstown near the City of Cork in Ireland" this in 1857/59. Carole in Canada.

Excerpt from George Bernard Shaw's, "John Bull's Other Island" -- "Your wits can't thicken in that soft moist air, on those white springy roads, in those misty rushes and brown bogs, on those hillsides of granite rocks and magenta heather. You've no such colours in the sky, no such lure in the distance, no such sadness in the evenings. Oh the dreaming! the dreaming! the torturing, heart scalding, never satisfying dreaming, dreaming, dreaming."

Hi, Carol -- Check out the IreAtlas: http://www.seanruad.com/ There is a Monkstown townland (large area) which also contains a Monkstown Town, Kerrycurrihy Barony, Civil Parish Monkstown, Poor Law Union of Cork. Added note - there is also the placename "Monkstown" in Cos. Dublin, Tipperary, Antrim and Westmeath. Jean ----- Original Message ----- From: "CAROLE CUMBER" <cdcumber@sprint.ca> To: <IrelandGenWeb-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Monday, December 10, 2001 11:27 AM Subject: [IGW] Monkstown > Hi can anyone tell me how I can find MONKSTOWN in Co Cork,an 1896 obituary says a relative was "born in Monkstown near the City of Cork in Ireland" this in 1857/59. > Carole in Canada. > > > ==== IrelandGenWeb Mailing List ==== > To contact the list administrator, please send an email to admin-irelandgenweb@rootsweb.com > >

BLESSED BE THE HOLY WILL OF GOD A morning prayer of Connemara; it has been heard in many places in Galway, and Dr. Hyde heard it in Roscommon. The will of God be done by us. The law of God be kept by us. Our evil will controlled by us. Our tongue in check be held by us, Repentance timely made by us, Christ's passion understood by us, Each sinful crime be shunned by us, Much on the End be mused by us, And Death be blessed found by us, With Angels' music heard by us, And God's high praise sung to us, For ever and for aye. -- Anonymous (19th century) - Translated by Douglas Hyde

A LEITRIM WOMAN People of Ireland -- I am an old woman; I am near my end; I have lived, now, for seventy-five years in your midst; I have grown up among you, toiled among you, suffered with you and enjoyed with you; I have given and received in faith and honour; what was to be endured I have endured, what was to be fought against I have fought against, what was to be done I have done; I have married in my country; I have borne two men-children and three women-children, two sons and three daughters of a Fenian father; I have brought them up to love and serve Ireland, to fight for her to death, to work for her at home and abroad, to cherish the old glory of Ireland and to strive manfully to bring in new light -- to go forward; I have brought them up in faith, to know freedom, and love justice, to take sides with the poor against their spoilers, against the leaders who say to a strong class "Hold all thou hast, take all thou canst," to unbind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne from men's shoulders, to render unto the people what is the people's; I have brought them up to believe in our Lord's prayer, to believe in the coming of his Kingdom upon earth and to labour that it come indeed; The strength of my body has gone into the soil of this land, and the strength of my children's bodies; the strength of my soul and the strength of my children's soul has been given in the cause of the people of this land; I have suffered, I have endured, when they were in exile and in danger of death -- now my husband and one son are dead, my last son deported without trial, uncharged -- the spoilers and their friends the strong and their helpers have taken him from me; I am old, now, and near to death; those who would have supported me and eased my going have been taken from me -- I looked for a little peace before the hour of my departure, my last son in the house with me, to see me into the grave, they have drive him forth -- may the curse of heaven, if there be a heaven, light on them; the curse of the widow and childless light on them; the curse of the poor without advocates, the curse of the old without protection, the curse of a mother light on them. -- Lyle Donaghy (1902-1949)

There is a boat on The lake to float on, And lots of beauties Which I can't entwine; But were I a preacher, Or a classic teacher, In every feature I'd make 'em shine! There is a stone there, That whoever kisses, Oh! he never misses To grow eloquent; 'Tis he may clamber To a lady's chamber, Or become a member Of parliament. A clever spouter He'll soon turn out, or An out-and-outer, To be let alone. Don't hope to hinder him, Or to bewilder him, Sure he's a pilgrim >From the Blarney Stone! -- Francis Sylvester Mahony "Father Prout" (1804-1866) composed this additional verse to Richard Alfred Millikin's (1767-1815) "The Groves of Blarney," sung to the air "Castle-Hyde."

COCKLES AND MUSSELS In Dublin's fair city, Where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Mollie Malone, She wheeled her wheel-barrow Through streets broad and narrow, Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!" "Alive, alive, oh! Alive, alive, oh!" Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!" She was a fishmonger, But sure 'twas no wonder, For so were her father and mother before. And they both wheeled their barrow Through streets broad and narrow, Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!" "Alive, alive, oh! Alive, alive, oh!" Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!" She died of a fever, And none could relieve her, And that was the end of sweet Mollie Malone. But her ghost wheels her barrow Through streets broad and narrow, Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!" "Alive, alive, oh! Alive, alive, oh!" Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!" -- Anonymous

BRIAN O'LINN Brian O'Linn was a gentleman born, His hair it was long and his beard unshorn, His teeth were out and his eyes far in -- "I'm a wonderful beauty," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn was hard up for a coat, He borrowed the skin of a neighboring goat, He buckled the horns right under his chin -- "They'll answer for pistols,: says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no breeches to wear, He got him a sheepskin to make him a pair, With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in -- "They are pleasant and cool," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no hat to his head, He stuck on a pot that was under the shed, He murdered a cod for the sake of his fin -- "'T will pass for a feather," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no shirt to his back, He went to a neighbor and borrowed a sack, He puckered a meal-bag under his chin -- "They'll take it for ruffles," said Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no shoes at all, He bought an old pair at a cobbler's stall, The uppers were broke and the soles were thin -- "They'll do me for dancing, " said Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no watch for to wear, He bought a fine turnip and scooped it out fair, He slipped a live cricket right under the skin -- "They'll think it is ticking," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn was in want of a brooch, He stuck a brass pin in a big cockroach, The breast of his shirt he fixed it straight in -- "They'll think it's a diamond," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn went a-courting one night, He set both the mother and daughter to fight -- "Stop, stop," he exclaimed, "if you have but the tin, I'll marry you both," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn went to bring his wife home, He had but one horse, that was all skin and bone -- "I'll put her behind me, as nate as a pin, And her mother before me, " says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn and his wife and wife's mother, They all crossed over the bridge together, The bridge broke down and they all tumbled in -- "We'll go home by water," says Brian O'Linn! -- Anonymous