Vocals: Canadian music group; Ruth Moody, Nicky Mehta and Cara Luft, better known as “The Wailin’ Jennys”, latter name a pun on the name of country singer Waylon Jennings, latter who died during the same month the group were initially formed.
Lyrics: Same unconfirmed, however, an early version is sometimes attributed to Sir Alexander Boswell* (1775 -1822), latter 1st Baronet, FRSE, FSA; a Scottish poet, antiquary, songwriter, from Auchinleck village, 2 miles (3 km) Northwest of Cumnock, in East Ayrshire, Scotland, UK. *[Note: Sir Alexander Boswell was son of Edinburgh born James Boswell (1740 -1795) latter a Scottish biographer, diarist, lawyer; a friend and biographer of English writer Samuel Johnson (1709 -1784), latter himself a poet, playwright, essayist, moralist, literary critic, sermonist, biographer, editor, and lexicographer].
The Parting Glass
Oh all the money that e’er I spent, I’ve spent it in good company, And all the harm that ere I’ve done, Alas, it was to none but me, And all I’ve done for want of wit, To memory now I can’t recall, So fill to me the parting glass, Good night and joy be with you all.
Oh, all the comrades that e’er I’ve had, I’m sorry for my going away, And all the sweethearts that e’er I’ve had, Who would wish me one more day to stay, But since it falls onto my lot, That I should rise and you should not, I’ll gently rise and I’ll softly call Good night and joy be with you all. Good night and joy be with you all.
END
Thurles.Info’s wish for you allin 2024. As 2024 draws close, we hope it is filled with the promise of a hopeful tomorrow. We wish you a very ‘Happy New Year’ and may 2024 bless all our readers with peace, joy, health, wealth and happiness, complete with new exciting adventure; enjoyable life-changing experiences; and may you be filled full of laughter, love and find even deeper friendships. ‘Happy New Year’
Close up pictures hereunder, show the remarkable likeness to the original head first executed at Carrara, in Italy by Professor Pietro Lazzerini. The material then used was Sicilian or bastard statuary marble, but was of such excellent quality that, on first sight, one would imagine it was real statuary marble.
It is also interesting to note that the statue appears to have been adjusted on a previous occasion, since it was first erected in 1911. In a photograph of the statue, taken sometime between 1911 and 1912, by Webster, Clonmel, Co. Tipperary and shown hereunder, the image displays a different pectoral cross*. Today, within the Church, pectoral crosses remain restricted to popes, cardinals, bishops and abbots. [*The word pectoral comes from the Latin ‘pectoralis’, meaning ‘of the chest’, (‘pecs’)]
This Cross appears to have been adjusted at a later date to represent a cross with two arms signifying a cross belonging to an Archbishop, with the cross held by a cord displaying one Solomon’s knot. The cross matches the gilt cross with two arms currently positioned on the summit of the Thurles Cathedral Baptistery, thus signifying that Thurles Cathedral belongs to an Archbishop.
The Archbishop of Cashel acting as Apostolic Administrator of Emly, until they were united on January 26th 2015, to form the new metropolitan see of Cashel and Emly.
If anyone has any further information regarding this matter, we would love to hear from you.
Decapitated statue of Archbishop Patrick Leahy D.D.
The decapitated statue of Archbishop Patrick Leahy D.D., latter Archbishop of Cashel from 1857-1875, and which was wilfully vandalised, has now been fully restored.
Most Rev. Patrick Leahy, D.D. Archbishop of Cashel 1857-1875
The statue, which depicts his right hand holding a breviary, stands 8ft (2.4384m) in height, on a limestone pedestal 7ft (2.1336m) high; attired in his episcopal soutane, rochet and mozetta, with his head uncovered, stood in the front yard of the Cathedral of the Assumption in Thurles.
Alas, the statue first erected 112 years ago, in 1911, was wilfully and shamefully decapitated in a gross act of vandalism, in late June 2019.
The statue harmonised well with its surroundings until the night of June 28th, 2019 when it was decapitated; latter occurring in the same month, 140 years exactly, after the Cathedral was solemnly consecrated.
The statue’s limestone pedestal was initially fashioned in Cashel, Co. Tipperary, by one, Mr Best and consists of four great blocks, chiselled, moulded and panelled, in accordance with the designs of one Mr J.C. Ashlin* of Dublin. The pedestal and statue, is long regarded as a work of fine art, and was erected by Messrs. Leahy Brothers of Thurles, Co. Tipperary.
[*Note: The architect for the building was J.J. McCarthy, while B. McMullen was the main builder, while the aforementioned J.C. Ashlin was responsible for the enclosing walls, railings and much of the other finished work.]
The statue was highly regarded at the time of being erected by those who knew and remembered Dr. Leahy; latter who stated that it was “an admirable and a remarkable likeness of him portraying his fine commanding presence and his handsome features”. An inscription on the limestone pedestal declares, “In commemoration of the Most Rev. Patrick Leahy, D.D., Archbishop of Cashel and Emly, 1857-1875, by whom this Cathedral Church of the Assumption was erected”.
A lengthy Garda investigation was initiated in the weeks which followed, however despite a €1,000 reward, the head of the statue was never recovered and those responsible were never brought to justice.
The restoration work has been carried out by sculptor Mr Stephen Burke, fashioned using photographs of the original statue and a portrait of Archbishop Leahy. The now restored statue will officially be blessed on Sunday next and this blessing will be followed by the annual Cathedral Carol Service.
Interesting to note that, being free from debt, Thurles Cathedral which replaced the ‘Big Chapel’, was eventually solemnly consecrated on Saturday, June 21st 1879. It was Archbishop Thomas William Croke whose statue stands on west Liberty Square, Thurles, who performed the ceremony himself including the consecration of the High Altar.
Bishop William Fitzgerald, Roman Catholic Bishop of Ross who consecrated Thurles Cathedral’s Sacred Heart Altar.
Bishop Francis McCormack, then Bishop of Achonry, (1871 to 1887)(latter consisting of twenty-three parishes in Counties Roscommon, Sligo, and Mayo), and later Bishop of Tuam, Co. Galway, who consecrated Thurles Cathedral’s Altar of the Blessed Virgin. [Note: History notes that Bishop Francis McCormack’s nephew was Captain Patrick McCormack, one of the Cairo Gang assassinated on Bloody Sunday (1920) on the instructions of Michael Collins, then Director of Intelligence of the Irish Republican Army]. Bishop Francis McCormack, died in 1909 and is buried in Galway Cathedral crypt, [His papers are stored in the Diocesan archive].
“Good God! to think upon a child, that has no childish days, No careless play, no frolics wild, no words of prayer and praise! Man from the cradle, ’tis too soon to earn their daily bread, And heap the heat and toil of noon, upon an infant’s head. O, England! though thy tribute waves, proclaim thee great and free, While those small children pine like slaves, there is a curse on thee!”
Child labour, as we are aware, is the exploitation of children through any form of work that deprives them of their childhood; interferes with their ability to attend regular education, or is mentally, physically, socially and morally harmful to their being. Poverty and lack of schools are considered the primary cause of child labour.
Child labour has existed to varying extents throughout world history and as late as 2017, four African nations (Mali, Benin, Chad and Guinea-Bissau) witnessed over 50% of children, latter aged between the ages of 5-14, working, the largest employers of child labour.
With the onset of the Industrial Revolution in the late 18th century, there was a rapid increase in the industrial exploitation of labour, including child labour. The Victorian era in particular became notorious for the conditions under which children were employed. Children as young as four years old were employed in factories and mines, working long hours in dangerous, often fatal, working conditions. In coal mines, children would crawl through tunnels, latter too narrow for adults to fit.
Children were also employed as errand boys, shoe blacks, or selling matches, flowers and other cheap goods. Some children undertook work as apprentices to respectable trades, such as building or as domestic servants. Their Working hours were long: builders worked an average of 64 hours a week during summer months and 52 hours during winter months, while servants indoors worked an 80-hour week. Child wages were low; as little as 10–20% of an adult male’s wage.
With the later growth of trade unions these issues began to change. German-born philosopher, economist, political theorist, historian, sociologist, journalist and revolutionary socialist, Karl Marx (1818-1883) was an outspoken opponent of child labour, stating that British industries “could but live by sucking blood, and children’s blood too”, and that U.S. capital was financed by the “capitalized blood of children”.
The English poet and novelist, better known by her initials Letitia Elizabeth Landon [L.E.L.] (1802–1838) castigated child labour in her 1835 poem “The Factory”, portions of which she pointedly included in her 18th Birthday Tribute to the Princess Victoria in 1837.
Thankfully, in this case our world has changed considerably for the better.
Schooldays Over.
Lyrics: The late, great British folk singer, songwriter, folk song collector, labour activist and actor, James Henry Miller, better known by the stage name of Ewan MacColl. Vocals: Irish singer, folk musician and Dublin actor, the late, great Luke Kelly.
Schooldays Over.
Schooldays over, come on then John, time to be getting your pit boots on. On with your sark* and the moleskin trousers*, it’s time you were on your way, Time you were learning the pitman’s job and earning the pitman’s pay.
Come on then Jim, it’s time to go, time you were working down below. Time to be handling a pick and shovel, you start at the pits today, Time you were learning the collier’s job and earning the collier’s pay,
Come on then Dai, it’s almost light, time you were off to the anthracite. The morning mist is on the vallеy it’s time you were on your way, Time you were learning the miner’s job and earning the miner’s pay.
Schooldays over, come on then John, time to be getting your pit boots on. On with your sark and the moleskin trousers, it’s time you were on your way, Time you were learning the pitman’s job and earning the pitman’s pay.
End
[*sark: Any long, shirtlike garment worn next to the skin, as a chemise, nightshirt]. [*moleskin trousers: Working menswear, woven of carded cotton yarn in a dense weft-faced satin weave, similar to today’s jeans in terms of cut and construction and still commonly used to make trousers today].
In Thurles, in the 1920’s, there lived a little girl on ‘Pudding Lane and Jail Street’, (Today’s JeremiahO’Donovan Rossa Street). She would grow up to become a Thurles trader.
I remember, when I was a boy, my father John Joe; trading on the side-walks of Liberty Square on what was known as ‘The Bank Corner’, situated at the junction of Liberty Square and Slievenamon Road in the town. My father traded in cabbage plants, fish on Friday’s and vegetables shared from my uncle’s cart.
There, too, traded Nellie Keane, who later went on to have own a vegetable shop in West Gate, where her daughter, Phil Keane, would also carry on a business and a tradition. Phil, who lived in Derheen, had the heart of a poet.
Nellie was twelve years old, and showing early signs of her entrepreneurial skills by doing messages for her mother in Nan Noonan’s shop in Liberty Square, where Scanlon’s newsagents later existed until recently.
On Christmas Eve, down in Noonan’s News agency, Little Nellie Keane was, like all the children in town at Christmas, gazing at the large number of asses, ponies, jennets and carts in town, enabling people to bring home their Christmas goods, which, back then, would include a ‘Hansel’*
[* Hansel – From old Saxon word meaning “to deliver into the hand”, latter being a small gift given at the end or beginning of the year to bring good luck from traders; a practise long since discontinued.]
Everybody was alive with the spirit of Christmas and toasting the spirit of the grand and glorious season. And it was a good Christmas, for business was brisk and people were happy enough, after a war in Ireland and a war in Europe.
And so, that Christmas Eve, as little Nellie Keane looked into that little shop window in Liberty Square, she sighed, when she noted that all the dolls were sold. However, just before she went home, little Nellie spotted this bisque coloured doll; a doll in a box. Nellie wondered why that particular doll on this particular day was not already sold. “What’s the matter with the doll?” she asked Nan Noonan, a kindly lady, indeed. “Oh, but that poor doll’s eyes never open, and sure we could not sell it so,” said Nan Noonan. But Nan observed the wonder of Christmas in the sympathetic child eyes of little Nellie Keane, and her generosity led her over to the box containing the doll with closed eyes. She then handed the boxed doll to little Nellie. She asked Nellie to look after the mysterious doll and to always have nice clothes on it, to play with it and to keep it pretty, proper and clean.
And so, delight on her face; the boxed doll cuddled in her arms, little Nellie strolled up the side-walk of Liberty Square, in Thurles, not caring how cold and frosty it was; with the snow beginning to cast it’s magic mantle over the whole town. She turned right at the corner of Liberty Square, hugging her precious doll; keeping her warm from the blasts of icy air, absolutely and utterly convinced it was really truly a wonderful world this day in the Watery Mall and Thurles town. As the jolly carollers sang their songs of Christmas, little Nellie Keane knew this would always be the most memorable Christmas of all for her.
But our little story does not end here. Our little Nellie went home and wondered how she might cure the sore eyes of the little boxed doll. Could there be a way of asking Santa to help the little doll? She prayed to God and Santa on that Christmas Eve, and like little children all over the world, she went to bed early that night, but without her doll. For she felt she should leave her doll downstairs in the kitchen, beside the cosy turf fire, so she would remain nice and warm in that lovely Keane home. Little Nellie, after a long time kept watch, peering out her small bed-room window for Santa Claus, who per chance might come over the fields, from the Presentation and Ursuline Convents, finally fell asleep.
The next morning she woke up and there were sweets in her stocking. But she could not wait to open such as she rushed down the stairs to give a little hug to her little boxed doll by the fireplace. She burst into the kitchen and the most amazing and wonderful thing met her gaze. The doll, was now sitting up on a chair by the fire, with the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. “Oh, she was cured,” shouted Nellie, as she danced around the kitchen floor in delight, having removed the doll from its box.
Nellie’s father, Johnny Keane, suspected perhaps the heat from the fire had cured the eyes, or was it the kindness and love of a little girl who now hugged and kissed her little doll, wishing her a Happy Christmas.
But our happy story is still not over, for Nellie Keane grew up to be a much-loved and very kind and popular businesswoman in the Market Town of Thurles. According to her daughter, Phil Keane, Nellie never lost her love of dolls, and always had a present of a doll for Phil herself, on returning to Thurles after trips in Ireland and abroad. Little Nellie Keane’s daughter, Phil, an old neighbour and friend of mine since childhood, became a world famous craftworker, who designed all kinds of dolls; Indian dolls, Red Indian dolls, Chinese and Japanese dolls, designed in all shapes and sizes, colours and materials.
Phil annually presented dolls and toys to children in need, in various parts of Ireland and Britain. “I feel it’s nice to give back something,” said Phil, who won over 7,000 awards for crafts and cookery worldwide; an interest fostered by her mother’s love of dolls and by her Aunty Jo’s interest in crafts. “Nellie loved dolls and she bred that love in me,” Phil told me once. Well, times have changed, and the Market House in the Square and the men and the women with the carts of fish and vegetables, (God be good to them), have now disappeared; vanished and gone into Thurles folklore. I am sure that in the town of Thurles there are many little children now writing to Santa Claus, reminding parents not to forget to post their letters. And, though times and customs have changed, I’m sure that the innocence of childhood has not vanished with the years. In a way, it would be nice to think that even some of the parents are not buying dolls for the children alone – but secretly for themselves, and, maybe, they’ll find out, like Nellie Keane all those years ago, through the kindness of a shopkeeper in Liberty Square, that there is magic and joy in even the most bruised and broken toy.
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