The Golden Teapot

O’er the Carstands, famed in Newry, the Golden Teapot glows,

Hanging high over the traffic, that now so swiftly flows –

“But times”, said John McParland, “in those far-off days, seemed low

When I made the Golden Teapot nearly fifty years ago!”


” ‘Twas for McClean I made it, and I think the job was sound

To hang for half a century so high above the ground.

It is still a sigh and wonder for every eye to see.


It took six weeks in making and I worked for Fleming then,

And Newry then, like Newry now, had many clever men.


There were tanners up in Chapel Street and in Hyde Market too.

It was from the Hydes it got it’s name. Was that fact known to you?


Yes the Dowdalls and the Clintons were fine and hardy types.

Like the Reids above in High Street, the men who made the pipes.


There were craftsmen in the Frontier Town since ever trade began;

Yes, we even had self-confectioners who made the ‘yellow man’.


Jack Foster lived in North Street then, ’twas there he made the start

That took him on to Hill Street to play a leading part.


Tom Fegan had the biggest pub that Newry ever saw,

And he left his fortune to the poor and never broke the law!


We had shoemakers and tailors, fine tradesmen by the score;

Great carpenters and stonemasons whose names are now no more.


Men who built the great Cathedral that I worked on many a day;

I helped to build the roof o’er head to shield you while you pray.


The craftsmen and the tradesmen are going, one by one-

Matt Lavery, the brushman, is another craftsman gone.


I was talking – to the barber, P. Fox – the other day

Of all the fine hands like his own, that now have passed away.


We both are over eighty years but with our pipes aglow,

We feel our hearts grow young again in thoughts of long ago.


So, when next you pass the Teapot, symbol of that nectar fine,

“Remember” said McParland, “it was made by hands like mine”.





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