Lisbanemore was a cashel [rock fort] in Killeen on the eastern extremity of the Ring of Gullion.
The following rambling account was recited – some generations ago – to a passing tourist!
Is it Lisbanemore ye’ve come till see?
Lisbanmore
Month: March 2004
Round Square
‘She needs a square of being round!’ – she’s intellectually-challenged: she has a wee want in her: she was behind the door when brains were being given out etc.
But the expression reminds me of a story of my first job, many decades ago. It was the custom then – it may well be yet – to ‘take a hand out of’ every new recruit. You know the kind: Get me a new bubble for my spirit level.. a new knot for my tie etc.
I worked in Thompson’s Cellars where the Pound Shop is today [Credit Union until recently]; we packed orders for licensed premises across the province. Henry Thompson’s and Quinn’s the Milestone [Protestant and Catholic firms respectively] had amalgamated. Our delivery drivers included Oliver McCaul – from Orior Road, and Jim Parks, then of High Street. We’d have to check our schedule as we did our rounds: if we were in a Unionist area, we announced ourselves as Henry Thompson’s, if Nationalist, as John Quinn’s! Where it was ‘safe’ [for us that meant the latter areas] the driver might make a fool of his new helper by ordering him into the premises first, to request ‘a long stand’ with which to help empty the van’s contents.
I was a bit ‘green’ and was certainly fooled the first time – being told to wait a while until the proprietor concluded the numerous chores that were apparently busying him. When I cottoned on, I also realized that the ‘long stand’ was in fact doing me no harm at all, so I stretched it out, and joined in heartily in the laughter which followed at my expense!
There were certain generous proprietors who had no problem about putting up ‘a bit of grub’ or even an odd pint. [There was certainly no fuss made then, forty years ago, about a driver having one only.] But you had to ‘know your man’. You usually timed your deliveries to ensure that lunch-time [anytime between twelve and two] coincided with your arrival at one such owner’s friendly door.
‘Go on in first there, lad, and ask for a ’round square’ to help us with this drop.’
‘You sure? A round square? Doesn’t sound right!’
‘None of yer cheek! Do what yer told, and be quick about it!’
I obeyed.
‘John Quinn’s delivery. The driver said, if you don’t mind and as it’s lunchtime, could he and I have the usual round. He’s in the bookies but he’ll be along in a minute. If that’s all right, that is!’
‘Cheeky get! Which driver is it today?’
‘Mr McCaul. If it’s all right with you, I’ll have today’s Special, with a large glass of iced milk! The driver will pay for it.’
‘Bit forward yerself, young lad, aren’t ye? Well all right, just this once!’
Five minute later, Oliver strolled in with a broad grin on his face.
‘Well, young lad, did you get the ’round square’?’
‘I ordered the round, all right. And I explained to the barman that you’d square him!’
After that, I got the respect I thought I deserved!
The Changeling
This couple had a wee holding in the West of Ireland and a locka acres of land, a small house and in the first year of their marriage they had a baby. very long ago!
Dog Brothels
It was an amusing story, certainly, but my attention was grabbed by that introduction! Most dogs in this city get only a five-minute walk on a lead each day. That was a great solace to me for I’d laboured under the illusion that I alone suffered from pet-owners on this count. It’s because a number of my neighbours consider their dogs to be house-trained when they deposit their treasures in someone else’s garden [preferably mine!]. If the unfortunate mutt is so precipitate as to choose mine, then his evening walkies is immediately terminated and he is returned to his paddock. If you don’t believe me, come and examine the evidence!
‘Most dogs in this city get only a five-minute walk on a lead each day,’ Karl Lentze told reporters in Berlin. But I’d got the wrong end of the lead! He was on a sales pitch.
‘That’s not long enough to sniff another canine, let alone indulge in a bit of fun. Our dog brothel will allow them to release their frustrations and will suit the fast-paced modern life of their owners too.
For
Lislea: View from a Bridge
The Carrick Players of Tyrone, with their performance of ‘Eclipsed’ [life in the laundry for 1960’s unfortunate girls] won the recent Lislea Drama Festival and qualified for the All-Ireland Confined Finals to be held in two weeks time in Warrenpoint. We will wait to see their achievement there before reviewing it. Enough now to say that it must be very good indeed to have bettered the home team’s performance of Arthur Millar’s ‘A View From The Bridge’. Mind you, only one point separated these two teams!
As a ‘lap of honour’ and to raise very necessary funds for the Hospice, Lislea enacted two performances, last Friday and Saturday evenings. First let me complement the community for their wonderful support. Unlike Newry, all ages turned out in force. As usual Lislea reserved the first four rows for school-going children [they were evening performances so no teachers were there to enforce discipline]. Their self-control and level of interest were a joy to behold. The sophistication of the audience for this quite complex drama was evident in the reception. All who spoke from the stage did so with confidence and competence without the aid of a microphone. As visitors we were well received. But this is
I’ve seen this Miller favourite many times, both professionally and on the amateur stage. Lislea’s performance could match any. A few players stood out. Pius Tierney’s masterful performance must have lifted every other member of cast. Liam Hannaway as Eddie was exceptional too. I note quite a number of players of this name. It’s true that often a few families form the backbone of local amateur dramatic groups. 14 people are named in the lead parts and at least that number again take the stage in support roles. Then double your answer to include the back-stage players. And remember that Lislea isn’t even a village, but a small, widely-disperse community. My admiration knows no bounds.
The play is presented through the eyes of Alfieri [Pius] a local lawyer. His view of life in Red Hook from
I’d like to congratulate and thank Joe Murphy and every one of his magnificent team for a wonderful performance. There wasn’t even a hint of jealousy that this fine production had failed to make it through their own festival. But these people are the cream of
Famine in Creggan
I find it maddening in the extreme – given that all of my forebears suffered untold hardships in this vicinity through the years of the Great Hunger of the mid-nineteenth century in Ireland – to hear a supposed authority like the former head of PRONI [named below] – at a public meeting recently in Newry – claim that our area was little affected.
Fews Glossary: B, 3
Blether n.v. foolish talk/er
Blood fighting spirit Don’t raise his blood!
Blow scold I gave him a good blowing up!
Blustery stormy, of temper as well as weather
Blutter as with ‘blether’
Boast hollow
Boke vomit: was man who’d do it on request, aka Bill the Boke!
Bone-dry out of milk! The wee cow’s bone-dry!
Bonefire bonfire
Bothered silly: he’s a bit bothered in his mind.
Bottom end, sense: there’s no bottom to his story.
Bottom low-lying field or meadow: He’s in the bottom field.
Boy male of any age: servant: the devil [as in ‘old boy’]
Brag boast she was the brag of the ball: he’s a bit of a brag
Braird prickly
Brakefast breakfast
Bran new
Brash illness: may also mean help
Braskins milk raised by the churn-staff in churning
Brave large, as in ‘a brave lump’: wholesome, as in ‘a brave day’
Bravery finery, as in, ‘she was out in her bravery’
Breast mount, as in ‘I haven’t yet met the horse I cudn’t breast!’
Brenthy broad
Brew the edge of a drain/bank of a stream: in town, tea.
Brissle toast, as in ‘she was brissling her shins at the fire’
Broken no longer fair, as in ‘the weather’s broken’
Brung brought
Buff joke, naked ‘he’s ony buffing!’ ‘in his buff!’
Budge more
Budget news, ‘What’s yer budget?’
Buggle shy, as in horse’s refusal, ‘the mare buggled at it!’
Bum boast, ‘he’s a real bum’
Bunty small
Busk dress, as in ‘All busked up and nowhere to go’
Butt ‘he jumped from a butt’ as ‘bunty’: ‘a quare wee butt of a lad’
Butter-fingered careless
Butter-mouthed treacherous ‘a butter-mouthed deceiver!’
Bye-boy illegitimate son
Bye-name nickname
Geology of Armagh
The Ring of Gullion, an igneous, intrusive, granitic rock, dominates the south-east portion of this map. What is perhaps more remarkable is the Newry Granite [white] that has intruded into the centre of the Ring!
The North of Co Armagh, bordering Lough Neagh, is dominated by estuarine clay [tan]. This owes its origin to successive Ice Ages, but mainly the most recent. The melted glacier that dominated the landscape there left the Lough when it melted and created the overflow drainage channel that now constitutes the route of the Newry Canal.
All other rock types here are sedimentary [the only metamorphic rocks in North Ireland are the schists of the Sperrins and Donegal gneisses] and were created over hundreds of millions of years, when this land was south of the equator and much of it submerged beneath equatorial oceans. The terms Ordovician [green] Tertiary [blue] Silurian [lime] etc. refer to periods of Earth History.
Apologies for the roughness of the drawn map: I only had children’s crayons to work with!!
Berry Ballad
Come all yous loyal brethren, I hope yous will draw near
It’s of a cruel murder boys, as ever you did hear
A woeful lamentation I mean to let you know
I had to die for Chambre and I never struck a blow.
Francis Berry is my name and my age is twenty three
I am a Roman Catholic, was reared in Drumintee
I am my mother’s only son, the truth I’ll ne’er deny
I left her broken-hearted in the townland of Adavoyle.
It happened in the year of eighteen and fifty two
For little I knew of the dangers great, I had for to come through
At nine o’clock on Tuesday night, my house they did surround
And I was taken prisoner and handcuffed on the ground.
They marched me off to Newry town, for me they’d take no bail
I was sworn by that a’cursed Singleton and forced to Armagh jail
He swore that I presented, a pistol and a ball
And God he is my witness, on Him I now will call.
I never fired at any man, God witness to the same
It’s in yer blood, cursed Chambre but, my hands I ne’er did stain
And God will say to Chambre, upon his dying day
Depart from me cursed Chambre, you did my child betray.
Depart from me Chambre, you caused his wounds to bleed,
Depart from me cursed Chambre, to thee I’ll give no heed
On the day of my execution, it was a shocking sight
To see the trembling victim, as he was dressed in white.
And standing in the jailhouse door, to view the gallows tree
It put me in mind of our Saviour who died on Mount Calvary
And standing on that woeful trap, praying to God on high
For to have mercy on my soul, for innocent I must die.
Come all my loyal brethren, my race is nearly run
And I will be an angel bright unto Thy Kingdom come
I’ll be governed by one clergy, its church is on a rock
Christ is our foundation and St Peter guides his flock.
Here’s to my loyal mother, I send these locks of hair
And also to my sister, in hopes that she’ll get care
And in Killeavy Churchyard, my body will remain
And against the Day of Judgement, I’ll see yous all again.