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01 Mar 09 - 07:29 AM (#2578442) Subject: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins From: Jim Carroll 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 |
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01 Mar 09 - 08:35 AM (#2578479) Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins From: MartinRyan 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". |
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01 Mar 09 - 08:37 AM (#2578481) Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins From: Jim Carroll Hi Martin, Thanks, Don't know anything about the song at all except I understand Karen Casey sings it. Jim Carroll |
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01 Mar 09 - 08:53 AM (#2578489) Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins From: MartinRyan Got it! . Title is "The Town of Athlone", it appears. Regards |
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01 Mar 09 - 08:58 AM (#2578492) Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins From: MartinRyan And, with a little more info, on Karan's own website: Click here Regards |
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01 Mar 09 - 09:32 AM (#2578512) Subject: RE: Pride of Athlone - Nicholas Mullins From: Jim Carroll Martin, You're a star, thanks. Would share the pint I've been promised but...... Best, Jim Carroll |
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12 Mar 09 - 11:02 PM (#2587717) Subject: Lyr Add: THE TOWN OF ATHLONE (Martin Furey) From: Jim Dixon 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 |