Guest Post: ‘The Village of Artane’, 1908

Eoin Bairéad writes:

I came across this in a little history of Donnycarney, written sometime in the 1970s by the local Labour Party. The name “Jack Teeling” is hand-written at the end of the verse.

I put it on the Killester Facebook page, and relatives of Jack Teeling contacted me – absolutely wonderful

Digitised leaflet available here: Donnycarney Booklet

The Village of Artane, 1908

I love the village of Artane, where I spent my youthful days
I love its dear old neighbours, their generous homely ways
That’s where we used to dance and sing around Killester Lane
Along with the boys and girls I knew from the village of Artane.

We had a cabin for a clubroom with a roof of ancient thatch
That’s where the Parnells gathered, to discuss their football match
We had musicians and comedians and tenors to entertain
Our friends, from around the district and the village of Artane

We had a few step dancers and I am sure they could compare
With either Ginger Rodgers or the famous Fred Astaire
We had no bus or cinema but of that I don’t complain
We had twice as good as Hollywood in the village of Artane

I remember in my time the old village had a king
Although his castle was pulled down his praise I’d like to sing
He retired like a hermit for the reason I’ve explained
With the faith of our Irish martyrs did this monarch of Artane

But the old place has changed now – some say it’s for the best
Some of our friends have departed to their final place of rest
Others have emigrated but there is still a few remain
Who will remember the happy days we spent around the village of Artane

Now to conclude and finish I think it’s only fair
For our dear departed neighbours we could offer up a prayer
May they rest in peace eternal may we ever more retain
The tradition of our ancestors around the village of Artane

Jack Teeling

 

2 thoughts on “Guest Post: ‘The Village of Artane’, 1908

Add yours

  1. I’m sure that’s my grandad Jack Teeling born in Artane 1899. He wrote and recited lots of poetry, and I seem to remember hearing this one as a kid. He was my mom’s dad, and after we emigrated to the U.S. he came to visit us in the sixties. I was only two when we left Ireland so my memories of him are in Iowa.

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