Lyr Req: Town of Athlone (Martin Furey)

Subject: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins
From: Jim Carroll
Date: 01 Mar 09 - 07:29 AM

I am looking for a song on behalf of a friend entitled The Pride of Athlone, about a Traveller named Nicholas Mullins - any information would be appreciated.
Thanks
Jim Carroll

Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins
From: MartinRyan
Date: 01 Mar 09 - 08:35 AM

Jim

Can't say I recognise it, despite living in Athlone for many years. I'll be visiting there during the week and will make enquiries. A modern song, I take it? Wasn't there a guy living in/near Moate who wrote several traveller-centred songs?

Regards
p.s. The only song I can think of with that phrase is "Young Edward, the Pride of Athlone".

Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins
From: Jim Carroll
Date: 01 Mar 09 - 08:37 AM

Hi Martin,
Thanks,
Don't know anything about the song at all except I understand Karen Casey sings it.
Jim Carroll

Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins
From: MartinRyan
Date: 01 Mar 09 - 08:53 AM

Got it! . Title is "The Town of Athlone", it appears.

Regards

Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins
From: MartinRyan
Date: 01 Mar 09 - 08:58 AM

And, with a little more info, on Karan's own website: Click here

Regards

Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins
From: Jim Carroll
Date: 01 Mar 09 - 09:32 AM

Martin,
You're a star, thanks.
Would share the pint I've been promised but......
Best,
Jim Carroll

Subject: Lyr Add: THE TOWN OF ATHLONE (Martin Furey)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 12 Mar 09 - 11:02 PM

TOWN OF ATHLONE
(Written by Martin Furey)

In the town of Athlone there's a young woman walking
And wrapped 'round her baby a shawl as she speaks
Of the passing of rings to the uniformed soldiers
The price of a ribbon their fortune to speak

Ah their fortune she speaks and she speaks of a river
Whose silvery barrows and moorlands beneath
Where a gun battle raged and the hero for Ireland
Soon would lie down dead, dead at her feet

At the feet of the virgin in the grotto of Annah
She sings to her baby in old styles bequeath
As she lilts and laments and enchants all in hearing
With songs of her people and melodies sweet

CHORUS: Sweet silvery Nore river is rolling
Over an Irish soldier's grave
And the vestry bells are tolling
Over the ashes of his grave

In the freeborn land of the traveling people
Lies Nioclas Mullins the pride of Cullbawn
Yet unmarked beside him the bride of his union
Who carried our music in a black gypsy shawl. CHORUS