By Lucy Wall-Murphy

The Streams of Bunclody

Fairdays in Bunclody


The Moss-House
and the Bridge Meadow

The Island Hunt and
 Golf Links

The Sawdust Stoves

The Corpus Christi Procession

The Beauties of Bunclody

The Pathway around by Carrhill

Trades and occupations in
Irish Street

The Well in the Wood

Changes in Irish Street

The Beauties of Bunclody

Come all ye great explorers And explain to you I shall
That on this earth there’s not a spot As handsome as the Mall.
O’erlooked by splendid sceneries Of fame and high renown,
And adorned by the lime trees In the centre of the town.

It’s with the Clody it shakes hands Which closely by does run;
It conveys trout and salmon, 0, my heart is fairly won;
Likewise a thrush on every bush So merrily do sing,
To waken up the Golf Club In the coming of the spring.

Down by the Meadow steps I went Along by the Slaney bank,
To view a splendid bridge That was not built of plank,
But a bridge of steel and iron, The like ‘twas never seen,
And I thought I was in Paradise, The meadow was so green.

I moved on still further By the Cricket Grounds so near.
Across the panorama To the mansion I did steer;
With nature’s invitation Inducing me to go on
To see the wild ducks diving And the motion of the swan.

When I went into Carrhill Wood My eyes they met a shock,
To see the splendid Mosshouse That is built on Carrhill Rock.
Its rustic chairs and tables Were fitting for a king,
And the screeching of the woodcock, It made the valleys ring.

I crossed the River Slaney Being filled up with delight;
The Round-O in the Racecourse, It was a glorious sight,
Where many a pound was won and lost, The truth I do declare
For once it was more famous Than the Curragh of Kildare.

I resolved to move on further, The path being for my guide;
I stood to view a Lady’s Seat That was by the river side.
‘Twas near this place a monastery stood a thousand years ago.
I believe it was conducted By a man called Saint Bruno.

With little of its relies Being lying on the ground,
Where Reynard often gets the rout With huntsman and with hound.
And on through Cuilaphuca With lots of time to spare,
To see the lovely waterfall With which Niagara can’t compare,

And out through Bunnagurra The mountains for to see:
The Deer Park and Mount Leinster, And likewise sweet Drime Cree,
Where, if industry was stirred up, We need not emigrate,
For there would be work in plenty Upon that bank of slate.

And lovelier still is Ryland Wood, As I was passing by,
The night being quickly falling And the view going from my eye.
The fraughan bushes were in bloom, All Nature was so gay
‘Twas heaven for the kiddies In the merry month of May.

To leave these splendid sceneries It causes me much pain;
But if Providence only spares me I’ll visit them once again.
There bending bowers and bluebell tops So fragrant in the breeze;
So, farewell to sweet Bunclody, Likewise the old Mall trees.