| The pool song was written by a teacher in Cork and made popular by Jimmy
Crowley. The words here are reproduced here without permission........
- Robin..........................
- The Pool Song -
May the Lord upon high, who rules the sky,
look down on our pubs and bars.
For the people therein, both wimmin and men,
are neglecting their pints and their jars.
The crack it is bad, the atmosphere sad,
every man has a face like a mule.
And all they can do, is grab an old cue,
and start playing this game called pool.
Now when I was a boy, 'twas always me joy,
to visit the pub each night.
There were arguments, scraps and killings perhaps
and every man thought he was right.
There was badgers and dogs and men from the bogs
and youngfellas acting the tool.
But now there's no crack 'cuz every man jack
has his arse in the air playing pool.
To the rural ale-house, after milking the cows,
each customer made his way.
And there they would dwell on the drink 'til they fell
while the fiddle and pipes they would play.
The jigs and the reels and the rattlin' of heels,
polkas and slides were the rule.
But now there's no chance, of a tune or a dance,
'cuz every wans playing th'ol' pool.
Now this pool you will find is a game designed,
for a foolish illiterate lout.
You stick in four bob, and you press an ol' knob,
and a whole shower of balls they fall out.
They're placed on the table, and then if your able
to knock 'em all into a whole.
More money goes in, you start over again,
and you lose every bob of your dole.
Now in the Irish free state, all the people are bate,
from watching and playing this game.
In their knecks they have cricks, which no doctor can fix,
and their shoulders and arms they are maimed.
Their arses protrude, in a manner most lewd,
from being hoisted aloft in the air.
And their eyeballs are sore and dripping in gore,
and they act in a manner most quare.
So if you meet a young man, whose face it is wan,
and his eyes have that vacant stare.
If his head is thrown back, and his jawbone is slack,
he can't tell a cob from a mare.
With his nostrils dilated, his head corrugated,
his manners like those of a fool.
Your shirt you can bet, that you have just met,
a man whose gone play'n mad from pool................................
_oOo_
|
| Sorry for the delay Tim, but it's taken a few days for all the words
to come back. I'm still missing one line which for the life of me
I can't remember. I'm sure it would come back if I had enough liquid
refreshment, but that won't be this weekend. However I have a tape
of me singing it, in a session in Glasgow, and if I can I'll dig it
out over the weekend. If not then maybe someone else can provide
the missing line.
- The Bould Thady Quill -
- Chorus -
"For rambling, for roving, for football or sporting,
for drinking black porter as fast as you'd fill.
In all your days roving you'll find none so jovial,
as the Muskerry sportsman, the bould Thady Quill."
Ye maids of duhallow who're anxious for courtin'
a word of advice I would give unto ye.
Proceed to Banteer to the athletic sports ground
and hand in your name to the clubs' committee.
But do not commence any sketch of your progress
'til a carriage you see coming over the hill.
And down through the hills and the vales of kilcorney
comes the Muskerry sportsman, the bould Thady Quill.
- chorus -
Thady was famous in all the right places,
at an athletic meeting held out in Cloghroe.
He won the long jump, without lifting his braces,
going fifty-four feet every sweep he would throw.
At the puttin' of the shot there was a Dublin man famous
but Thady outreached and exceeded him still.
And all 'round the ground went the Muskerry chorus,
Here's luck to our hero, the bould Thady Quil.
- chorus -
At a great hurling match between Cork and Tipperary
twas held in the sports ground on the banks of the Lee.
Our own darling boys were afraid of being beaten,
so they sent for bould Thady to Donaghadee.
Well he hurled the ball left and right in their faces
and he showed those Tipperary boys hurling and skill.
................... ????? ..................
And the papers were full of the praise of thade Quill.
- chorus -
At the Cork exhibition there was a fine lady,
whose fortune exceeded a million or more.
But a bad constitution had ruined her completely
and medical science had failed o'er and o'er.
Oh mamma said she I know what will cure me
and all me diseases most certainly kill.
Give over your doctors and medical treatments
I'd rather one rub off of bould Thady Quill.
- chorus -
In the year ninety-one before Parnell was taken
Thade was outragiously breaking the peace.
He got a light sentence for causing commotion,
but two years hard labour for beatin' police.
But in spite of coercion he's still agitatin'
every drop of his life's bllod he's willing to spill.
To gain for ould Ireland complete liberation,
till then there's no rest for me bould Thady quill.
- chorus -
_oOo_
|
| By the way there was a version of the bould Thady Quill brought
out a few years back by the "Donal Ring Ceili band" (about as Cork
as Beamish or Barry's T ) called the Bould Christy Ring.
Don't know any of the words but the chorus is :
For liftin', for strikin' and doublin' like lightnin',
for points and goal scoring his praises we'll sing.
He's hurlings' most glorious, he's always victorious,
he's Corks darlin' hurler, the Bould Christy Ring.
I always add this in at the end of TQ just in case there might
be anyone listening who comes from one of the less successful hurling
counties (i.e. Galway, Tipp, Clare, limerick etc.......... :-) ).
- Robin..............
|
| Guys,
I am so grateful I must make a confession; there is no macra na
feirme branch in Chi town, tho these words may be used at the Emerald
Isle or the Billy Goat if I'm in the right mood,
Appreciate it,
If the above information givers are ever in Chicago, look me up
as I'll return the favour via a cubs game, deep dish pizza or a
few brewskies,
Tim.
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