Musical Memories

This Musical Memories section, brings together a collection of songs and slideshows inspired by the people, places and stories of Dunmore East and the surrounding area.

Many of the pieces began with an old photograph, a local story, a newspaper cutting or a memory passed down through families. From there, the stories have been turned into songs and illustrated with a mixture of historical photographs and newly created images, helping to bring another dimension to moments from the village’s past.

Some are light-hearted, some nostalgic, and others recall the harder side of life, fishing, emigration, storms, schooldays, working life and the people who helped shape the community. Familiar names and places appear throughout, along with stories that might otherwise have slowly faded from memory.

The aim is not to present history as a list of dates and facts, but to give it a voice. A photograph can show us how a place once looked, while a song can sometimes capture something different, the humour, sadness, pride and everyday life that surrounded it.

Most of these musical memories are rooted in Dunmore East, but many of the themes will be familiar far beyond the village: growing up, leaving home, making a living, remembering those who are gone, and looking back at a world that has changed enormously within a lifetime.

I hope the songs and images bring back a few memories of your own, and perhaps introduce some of the old stories of Dunmore to those hearing them for the first time.

This slideshow remembers the women who came from Donegal and Scotland to work in Dunmore East during the herring seasons of the 1920s. As fishing boats crowded the harbour and brought their catches ashore, these women supplied the skill and labour needed to clean, salt and pack the fish into barrels.

Their days were long, often spent standing in cold and wet conditions. Working in teams, their practised hands helped keep a busy industry moving. Behind every barrel ready for market was work that could be tiring, uncomfortable and easily overlooked.

The song also celebrates the life they brought to the village. After hours spent beside the harbour, there was still time for songs, music, dancing and friendship. The visiting women became part of Dunmore’s seasonal life, bringing their accents, traditions and laughter with them.

The Herring Girls of Dunmore is a tribute to these women and their place in the village’s history. It recalls both the demands of their working day and the companionship they found ashore, remembering the people whose contribution deserves to be celebrated alongside the boats and fishermen.

The Herring Girls Of Dunmore

[Verse 1]

From Donegal and Scotland,

They came to earn their pay.

With bags and coats upon their arms,

They walked down to the quay.

The harbour full of drifters,

The barrels standing high,

And silver herring coming in,

Beneath a smoky sky.

[Chorus]

Oh, the herring girls of Dunmore,

With their laughter and their songs,

They worked beside the harbour,

Till shadows grew too long.

From the hard work on the key side,

To the dancing on the floor,

There was great fun in the village,

With the herring girls ashore.

[Verse 2]

The convent bell at six o’clock,

Would call them to the day.

They tied their aprons round their waists,

And went down to the quay.

Two would clean the herring,

And one would salt and pack.

They filled the waiting barrels,

While the boats came sailing back.

[Chorus]

Oh, the herring girls of Dunmore,

With their laughter and their songs.

They worked beside the harbour,

Till shadows grew too long.

From the hard work on the key side,

To the dancing on the floor.

There was great fun in the village,

With the herring girls ashore.

[Verse 3]

Their hands were cold and weary,

Their clothes were wet with rain.

A little tea, a bite to eat,

Then back to work again.

The buyers watched the barrels,

The crowds stood on the quay.

But the women kept on working,

With the catch brought from the sea.

[Verse 4]

At night they laid their knives aside,

And washed the salt away.

There was music in the village,

At the closing of the day.

A tune came out of Scotland,

A song from Donegal.

And feet that stood for hours,

Still answered to the call.

[Bridge]

The boats have changed, the years have passed,

Those voices now are still.

Their faces in a photograph,

Can bring them back at will.

We see them standing shoulder close,

And think of days before.

When the women came to work with fish,

On the quay in old Dunmore.

[Final Chorus]

Oh, the herring girls of Dunmore,

With their laughter and their songs.

They worked beside the harbour,

Till shadows grew too long.

From the hard work on the key side,

To the dancing on the floor.

There was great fun in the village,

With the herring girls ashore.

[Outro]

From Scotland and from Donegal,

They came to old Dunmore.

A recent cold morning reminded me of the harsh winters we used to experience before the world heated up. This slideshow is made up of photos of Dunmore as I imagine it must have looked during those frozen years.

Winter Hold Your Breath

[Verse 1]

The old year had just passed away,

The east wind crossed the sea.

It shook the loosened windowpanes

And stripped the winter trees.

By morning, every laneway

Had vanished under white.

The road to Dunmore East was lost

Beyond the reach of sight.

[Chorus]

Oh, winter, hold your breath,

And let the harbour sleep.

The snow is high outside the door,

The drifts are rising deep.

Keep one small candle burning,

Until the morning comes.

We’ll find our way around again

When this long cold winter’s done.

[Verse 2]

The herring boats they all lay still,

Their crews were far from home.

The harbour had no song to sing

Beneath the falling snow.

No bus came out from town that day,

No footsteps crossed the quay.

The only sound at night

Was wind against the sea.

[Chorus]

Oh, winter, hold your breath,

And let the harbour sleep.

The snow is high outside the door,

The drifts are rising deep.

Keep one small candle burning,

Until the morning comes.

We’ll find our way around again

When this long cold winter’s done.

[Verse 3]

Delivery men they could not pass,

The village shops grew bare.

Neighbours baked some loaves of bread

They made enough to share.

They stood and watched the harbour road

From windows clouded white,

And kept their fires burning

Through the long and bitter night.

[Chorus]

Oh, winter, hold your breath,

And let the harbour sleep.

The snow is high outside the door,

The drifts are rising deep.

Keep one small candle burning,

Until the morning comes.

We’ll find our way around again

When this long cold winter’s done.

[Verse 4]

The fishing boats they stayed tied up,

No nets went out at dawn.

The men stood on the key side

And watched the snow come on.

Each day without a catch

Meant less to bring back home;

The sea lay dark below them,

The village wrapped in snow.

[Chorus]

Oh, winter, hold your breath,

And let the harbour sleep.

The snow is high outside the door,

The drifts are rising deep.

Keep one small candle burning,

Until the morning comes.

We’ll find our way around again

When this long cold winter’s done.

[Verse 5]

The lanes were covered deep in drifts,

The church bells sounded low.

They carried one last neighbour home

Through softly falling snow.

And when the day was over,

They gathered by the fire;

The wind still shook the houses,

And the flames were rising higher.

[Final Chorus]

Oh, winter, hold your breath,

And let the harbour sleep.

The snow is high outside the door,

The drifts are rising deep.

Keep one small candle burning,

Until the morning comes.

We’ll find our way around again

When this long cold winter’s done. 

This song and slideshow tell the story of Irish emigration during the 1950s, when work was scarce, money was short and thousands of young men and women left home in search of a better life in England.

For many, leaving Ireland meant saying goodbye to family, familiar places and the life they knew, often with little more than a small suitcase and the hope of finding work. They built roads, laid railway tracks, worked in factories and hospitals, and sent money home to help the families they had left behind.

It is also worth remembering this part of our own history when we speak about immigration today. At one time, Irish people were the newcomers in another country, trying to make a living and build a future far from home.

The slideshow is a small reminder of those who left, those who stayed behind, and the lives that were shaped by emigration.

Then Off To England

[Verse 1]

We grew up poor,
But made our way,
With turf by night,
And work by day.
The wireless played,
The kettle sang,
And church bells called
Across the land.

[Verse 2]
The roads were rough,
The winters cold,
The clothes we wore
Were passed and old.
But dances came
On Saturday,
And for a while
The cares fell away.

[Verse 3]
The garden fed
The house all year,
With spuds and greens
And little to spare.
A neighbour called,
The tea was poured,
And every tale
Was heard once more.

[Chorus]
Then off to England,
Across the foam,
With one small case
And thoughts of home.
For work was scarce,
Mouths went unfed,
So thousands left
\\\\\\\For England instead.

[Verse 4]
The station filled
Before the dawn,
With sons and daughters
Moving on.
A mother's wave,
A father's hand,
And one last look
Across the land.

[Verse 5]
They built the roads,
They laid the track,
And sent their wages
Homeward back.
In London rooms,
Through smoke and rain,
They dreamed of fields
And home again.

[Verse 6]
The letters came
On Monday morn,
With news of babies
Newly born.
A pound or two,
A photograph,
Could bring a tear
And then a laugh.

[Chorus]
Then off to England,
Across the foam,
With one small case
And thoughts of home.
For work was scarce,
Mouths went unfed,
So thousands left
For England instead.

[Verse 7]
In crowded halls,
On Friday night,
The fiddle played,
The mood grew bright.
A song from Clare,
A reel from Cork,
And home was near
For one short hour.

[Verse 8]
Some came back home,
And some stayed on,
And forty years
Were quickly gone.
But Ireland lived
In every song,
And in their hearts
Their whole life long.

[Final Chorus]
Then off to England,
Across the foam,
With one small case
And thoughts of home.
For work was scarce,
Mouths went unfed,
So thousands left
For England instead.

This slideshow is made up of photographs of people who lived in Dunmore East, along with some who still live there today. Together, the images offer a glimpse of the people who helped shape the village, its families, its working life and its community over the years. Some faces will be instantly familiar, while others may bring back memories of people, places and times now gone. At its heart, the slideshow is a reminder that a village is more than its streets, houses and harbour — it is the people who give it its character, its stories and its sense of home. 

The People Make The Village

[Verse 1]

It isn’t just the harbour,

Or the houses by the sea,

It isn’t just the fishing boats,

Or gulls above the quay.

It’s the hands that hauled the nets in,

Before the break of day,

And the voices calling morning

As the boats came through the bay.

[Chorus]

For the people make a village,

The people make a place,

Every name and every story,

Every well-remembered face.

From the fields above the harbour,

To the boats upon the foam,

It’s the people make a village,

And it’s people make it home.

[Verse 2]

There were farmers on the high ground,

Working through the wind and rain,

Turning earth in early springtime,

To sow the crops for grain.

There were men down on the harbour,

Loading lorries on the quay,

And the fishermen on trawlers

Who spent their days at sea.

[Chorus]

For the people make a village,

The people make a place,

Every name and every story,

Every well-remembered face.

From the fields above the harbour,

To the boats upon the foam,

It’s the people make a village,

And the people make it home.

[Verse 3]

There were women behind counters,

There were barmen pulling pints,

There were stories told at closing time,

On long cold winter nights.

There were children on the pathways,

There were neighbours at the door,

And everybody knew your name

In the Dunmore days of yore.

[Verse 4]

Some are gone across the water,

Some lie quiet up on the hill,

Some old boats have left the harbour,

Some old voices now are still.

But their footsteps mark the village,

And their stories linger on,

For a place remembers people

Even when they’re gone.

[Bridge]

The walls may change,

The years may fly,

Old shops may close their doors.

But every life leaves something

On these streets and on these shores.

[Final Chorus]

For the people make a village,

The people make a place,

Every name and every story,

Every well-remembered face.

From the fields above the harbour,

To the boats upon the foam,

It’s the people make a village,

And the people make it home.

Yes, the people make the village,
And Dunmore is their home. 

This slideshow looks back at the decline of Ireland’s fishing industry over the past 60 years. Through images and song, it reflects on changing quotas, rising costs, fewer boats, and the loss of generations of fishing knowledge, while also paying tribute to the crews and coastal communities that continue to make their living from the sea.

The Boats Grew Few

[VERSE 1]
There was a time around our coast,

When every harbour knew,

The rattle of the winches,

And the boats were many too.

From Donegal to Kerry,

From Wexford to the Lee,

A thousand families made their living

From Ireland’s restless sea.

[VERSE 2]

In nineteen seventy-three we joined

The nations of the EEC,

And fishermen looked hopefully

Towards what was yet to be.

But slowly rules and quotas came,

The shares were measured out,

And men who'd fished those waters long

Began to live with doubt.

[CHORUS]

And the boats grow few,

All along the Irish shore,

The harbour walls are quieter now,

Than they had been before.

The sons who learned beside their fathers

Turn to something new,

And where a hundred boats once sailed,

Tonight there may be two.

[VERSE 3]

The bigger ships came westward,

The markets rose and fell,

The price of fuel kept climbing,

Weather took its toll as well.

Some stocks grew thin and limits came,

To let the waters mend,

But every cut upon the catch

Could mean another end.

[VERSE 4]

A boat was more than timber,

More than diesel, rope and gear,

It carried generations,

And the knowledge of the years.

The grounds had names remembered

That no chart could ever show,

And fathers taught their children

Where the hidden currents flow.

[CHORUS]

And the boats grow few,

Along the Irish shore,

The harbour walls are quieter now,

Than they had been before.

The sons who learned beside their fathers

Turn to something new,

And where a hundred boats once sailed,

Tonight there may be two.

[VERSE 5]

Then Britain left the Union,

And the shares were changed again,

Another loss of fishing grounds,

Another blow to men.

Some boats were tied, some boats were sold,

And vanished one by one,

And every empty harbour berth

Spoke of an age now gone.

[VERSE 6]

Still there are boats that leave at dawn,

And crews who take the strain,

Who work the tides and western seas

Through darkness, wind and rain.

They ask no praise or pity,

Only room enough to be,

And hope another generation

Earns their wage at sea.

[FINAL CHORUS]

But the boats grow few,

Along the Irish shore,

And voices from the harbour tell

Of how it was before.

May there still be nets to haul,

And Irish crews to do,

For when a fishing village loses boats,

The village is lost too.

[OUTRO]

From Donegal to Kerry,

From Wexford to the Lee,

Keep a light upon the harbour
For the boats still on the sea. 

Some days, the pressure of dealing with a school full of children must have become too much, even for women as patient and devoted as Mother Peter and Mother Agnes.

During the 1960s, when the strain of education, discipline and general child management got a bit heavy, they were known to slip away for a quiet nun’s tipple in The Butcher’s.

And who could blame them?

As any mother will tell you, looking after one child can be difficult enough. These ladies took on the trials and tribulations of every parent in the village on a daily basis. They had bold children, good children, “I don’t know” children, and children like myself, who were there purely for the learning and gave no trouble at all.

To their credit, they had no favourites. Everyone was treated equally, whether saint, sinner or scholar.

So let us not judge these ladies of the cloth too harshly for their lunchtime weakness. Whatever was in the glass, they had earned it. In fact, after a morning spent teaching the children of Dunmore, they probably deserved a half one with their pints.

Sometimes, during the herring season, when the boats were in because of bad weather, the nuns were known to join in the morning sessions in the pub.

I remember hearing stories of how they would try on the Dutchmen’s clogs and attempt to step-dance in them, while the French fishermen would wear the spare veils that Mother Peter always carried in her habit and sing the Hallelujah Chorus.

The craic was said to be mighty.

But often, just when they were in full flight, they would be interrupted by Eily McCarthy. She would whisper in Mother Peter’s ear that children were walking on the grass, or report some such misdemeanour, and out the door the nuns would hurriedly go.

I’m sure they must have been an impressive sight, running down the road past Mrs Burke’s shop, their veils blowing horizontally in the wind, batons in one hand and bottles in the other.

Mother Peter, Mother Agnes

Verse 1

Mother Peter, Mother Agnes,

Kept the village school in line,

Through the sums and catechism,

From the morning bell at nine.

There were saints and there were sinners,

There were scholars, bold and bright,

And a few who swore they’d done no wrong,

Though caught there in plain sight.

Verse 2

When the strain became too heavy,

And the classroom grew too loud,

They had a secret place to go,

Far from the madding crowd.

Up the road and into Bill’s,

For a peaceful glass or two,

And after teaching half of Dunmore,

Who could say it wasn’t due?

Chorus

So cheers to Peter, cheers to Agnes,

And the patience they displayed,

Teaching every child together,

Every rascal, rogue and maid.

If they slipped away at lunchtime,

For a drop to see them through,

Sure a saint might need refreshment

After what we put them through.

Verse 3

When the herring boats were weather-bound,

And the foreign crews came in,

Then The Butcher’s in the morning

Would be filled with song and din.

The Dutchmen wore their wooden clogs,

Mother Peter tried a dance,

While the Frenchmen wore the spare veils,

Singing Hallelujah chants.

Chorus

So cheers to Peter, cheers to Agnes,

And the patience they displayed,

Teaching every child together,

Every rascal, rogue and maid.

If they slipped away at lunchtime,

For a drop to see them through,

Sure a saint might need refreshment

After what we put them through.

Verse 4

Then the door would open softly,

And Eily would appear,

With a grave and urgent message

Meant for Mother Peter’s ear.

“There are children walking on the grass!”

That was all she had to say,

And the two of them were out the door

And racing towards the quay.

Verse 5

Down past the shop of Mrs Burke,

What a sight they must have made,

With their veils stretched in the west wind,

Like the flags on a parade.

Their batons firmly in one hand,

Drinks safely in the other,

Running back to save the schoolyard

God save us, Holy Mother!

Bridge

I was one who caused no trouble,

I was there to learn each day,

Never spoke when not supposed to,

Or led the rest astray.

Well, that’s exactly how I mind it,

Though some may not agree,

But when history’s being written,

You can take that part from me.

Final Chorus

So here’s to Peter, here’s to Agnes,

And the patience they displayed,

Teaching every child together,

Every rascal, rogue and maid.

And if The Butcher’s brought some comfort

When the morning’s work was through,

Raise a glass to those two ladies
For they’d surely earned their due. 

This slideshow tells the story of a man looking back on his life in a fictional village by the sea. Any resemblance to life in Dunmore is purely coincidental.

Where The Years Have Gone

[Verse 1]

I remember summer mornings,

When the whole wide world was new,

Running down the narrow roadway,

With a sky of endless blue.

There were bicycles and bare feet,

There were fields we wandered through,

And we never thought of growing old,

Or what the years would do.

[Verse 2]

There were voices in the kitchen,

There was laughter down the hall,

There were coats behind the doorway,

And old pictures on the wall.

There were neighbours at the garden gate,

Who seemed they'd always stay,

But one by one the years moved on,

And carried them away.

[Chorus]

And I wonder where the years have gone,

How they slipped away so fast,

All the days we thought would never end

Are memories of the past.

Still I hear those distant voices,

Drifting softly through my mind,

And sometimes I'm that boy again,

Who thought he'd seen it all.

[Verse 3]

We'd go wandering down the village,

When the summer days were long,

With the sea stretched out before us,

And the seabirds all in song.

Every boat became an ocean ship,

Every road could lead somewhere,

And tomorrow seemed a lifetime off,

Without a single care.

[Verse 4]

Then the world grew somewhat larger,

And the old crowd moved away,

Some went looking for a living,

Some had other roads to take.

There were weddings, births and partings,

There were things we couldn't know,

And before we knew what happened,

Half a lifetime seemed to go.

[Chorus]

And I wonder where the years have gone,

How they slipped away so fast,

All the days we thought would never end

Are memories of the past.

Still I hear those distant voices,

Drifting softly through my mind,

And sometimes I'm that boy again,

Who thought he'd seen it all.

[Bridge]

I wouldn't turn the clock around,

Even if I could,

For every road I've travelled

Had its bad times and its good.

But I'd give almost anything

For one familiar day,

To hear the old ones call my name

Before they went away.

[Verse 5]

Now the mornings seem much quieter,

And the summers don't seem long,

But somewhere in the heart of me,

Those old days carry on.

For the child we were is never lost,

Though years may change the view,

He walks beside us all our lives,

In everything we do.

[Final Chorus]

And I wonder where the years have gone,

How they slipped away so fast,

All the days we thought would never end

Are treasures from the past.

And I hear those distant voices,

In the stillness of the room,

And for a little while I'm home again,
With everything in bloom. 

This slideshow tells the tale of the Margaret Ann, a trawler that went on fire in Tramore Bay in 1958. Thankfully, due to quick thinking and expertise at sea, the four men survived. The story can be read on my website at the following link: The Inferno At Sea

The Margaret Ann

Come gather round and hear the tale
Of a boat from old Dunmore,
The Margaret Ann, a fishing craft
That worked the southern shore.
With Frank MacDonald at the wheel,
And three good men aboard,
They sailed into Tramore Bay
Before the morning stirred.

[REFRAIN]
Oh Margaret Ann, through the fire and foam,
Carry your four fishermen home.

[VERSE 2]
Jimmy Power was down below,
With Buddy Fancy close at hand,
And Tom Doyle was there as well
As they fished off Saw-leen Strand.
The night was black, the sea was cold,
The wind was running free,
When smoke came creeping through the boat
And fire took hold at sea.

[REFRAIN]
Oh Margaret Ann, through the fire and foam,
Carry your four fishermen home.

[VERSE 3]
They fought the flames with all they had,
But fire was gaining fast,
The smoke rolled thick across the deck,
They knew she could not last.
Brownstown rocks were waiting there,
The current running strong,
So Frank turned her towards Saw-leen
And drove the boat along.

[VERSE 4]
They gathered planks and empty tanks
And lashed them for a raft,
While sparks flew high around the wheel
And smoke streamed fore and aft.
Then hard she struck the shallow bar
Not far from Saw-leen Strand,
With burning timber all around
And darkness over land.

[REFRAIN]
Oh Margaret Ann, through the fire and foam,
Carry your four fishermen home.

[VERSE 5]
One by one they left the boat
And crossed the freezing tide,
With weary arms and little strength
And blackness either side.
The shore seemed close, the water deep,
The night would not give way,
But still they pushed through cold and dark
Until they found the bay.

[VERSE 6]
For near an hour they fought their way
Across the water there,
Then four long miles through wind and rain
With salt upon their hair.
At last a friendly door was found,
A fire was burning bright,
And four men who had faced the sea
Came safely through the night.

[REFRAIN]
Oh Margaret Ann, through the fire and foam,
You carried your four fishermen home.

[VERSE 7]
The boat was lost, the catch was gone,
The flames had done their worst,
But no man from the Margaret Ann
Was numbered with the lost.
And still the story lingers on
Where Dunmore meets the sea,
Of fire and night and four good men
Who lived to tell of thee.

[FINAL REFRAIN]
Oh Margaret Ann, through the fire and foam,
You carried your four fishermen home.
And while the old sea stories live,
Your name will still be known,
For Margaret Ann came through the night
And brought her four men home.

REMEMBERING THE 1962 STORM.

March 7, 1962 dawned like any other day in Dunmore, but by nightfall the village would be forever changed. What began as a typical spring morning soon became the worst storm in living memory - the second such catastrophe to batter the coast in just five months. As winds reached hurricane force, Waterford City found itself flooded twice in one day, with the evening tide pushing three feet of seawater through the quays, drowning shops and leaving vehicles bobbing like corks in its wake.

Dunmore East suffered the storm's full wrath. The fishing pier, the community's economic heart, took a brutal beating. Roger Shipsey's curing station disappeared beneath the waves, taking £10,000 worth of equipment and inventory with it. Nearby, the Board of Works buildings crumbled as if made of paper, while the pier's sturdy timbers were ripped apart like matchsticks. Initial damage estimates reached £50,000 – a huge sum of money in those days.

Even Nimmo’s lighthouse couldn't withstand nature's fury. Floodwaters silenced its generator, leaving crews scrambling to install temporary lights as waves pounded its compromised foundation. The cliffs at the Shanoon bore permanent scars from the assault, fracturing under the pressure and sending tons of rock crashing into the sea below, leaving the Black Knob forever severed from the village.

The harbour transformed into a scene of surreal destruction. Fish barrels and boxes became projectiles in the churning water while a car, lifted by a freak wave, was carried fifteen feet uphill before being dropped like a discarded toy. Near the Protestant Church, parked vehicles disappeared under foaming spray, abandoned by owners who couldn't reach them. Boats tore free from their moorings - smaller craft washing inland, larger vessels smashing against the rocks.

This slideshow tells the tale of that great storm, and even if some of the pictures used slightly exaggerate the scene, I’m sure they’re not too far off the mark.

The Storm of ’62

Verse 1
On the seventh day of March, in nineteen sixty-two,
The morning broke on Dunmore as the springtime mornings do,
But out beyond the harbour, where the grey horizon lay,
A darkness gathered on the sea that would not pass away.
The fishermen looked seaward, and the gulls began to flee,
For something wild was rising in the temper of the sea,
And before the night had fallen, every soul would come to know
The terror of the hurricane that struck at old Dunmore.

Chorus
Oh, hear the wind come roaring,
Hear the black sea strike the shore,
Hear the timbers crack and splinter,
Hear the frightened people roar.
When the waves came over Dunmore,
And the night was filled with fear,
There were prayers upon the harbour
As the storm came raging near.

Verse 2
Dunmore bore the fury where the ocean struck its worst,
The fishing pier was battered as the towering breakers burst,
And Shipsey’s curing station vanished underneath the foam,
With timber, gear and barrels swept far out beyond their home.
The harbour boiled beneath the wind, the breakers sweeping through,
With barrels, boats and timber tossed wherever wild seas blew,
And men stood helpless by the shore, not knowing what would stay,
As wave on wave came thundering in and tore the pier away.

Chorus
Oh, hear the wind come roaring,
Hear the black sea strike the shore,
Hear the timbers crack and splinter,
Hear the frightened people roar.
When the waves came over Dunmore,
And the night was filled with fear,
There were prayers upon the harbour
As the storm came raging near.

Verse 3
Even Nemo’s lighthouse faltered as the flood put out its flame,
The generator drowned beneath the water as it came,
And men worked in the darkness with the wild sea at their feet,
They tried to raise a guiding light where storm and harbour meet.
The cliffs around the Shanoon cracked beneath the ocean’s might,
And tons of rock went crashing through the darkness of the night,
Till the Black Knob stood divided where the angry breakers tore,
A scar that told the story of the storm upon Dunmore.

Verse 4
The smaller boats broke from their ropes and washed upon the land,
The larger ones were driven hard against the rocks and strand,
Men watched helpless from the shelter as the harbour came alive,
And wondered through the roaring dark, would anything survive.
So doors were barred and candles lit as families gathered near,
And listened to the pounding waves with hearts consumed by fear,
For no one there could tell how long that dreadful night would roar,
Or what would still be standing when the morning reached Dunmore.

Chorus
Oh, hear the wind come roaring,
Hear the black sea strike the shore,
Hear the timbers crack and splinter,
Hear the frightened people roar.
When the waves came over Dunmore,
And the night was filled with fear,
There were prayers upon the harbour
As the storm came raging near.

Final Verse
And morning found a different place beneath a calmer sky,
With broken walls and battered boats and wreckage piled up high,
The Shanoon cliffs were wounded and the harbour bore the scars,
While people stood in silence underneath the fading stars.
And those who lived that night still knew, however years might roll,
The sound of wind through Dunmore and the sea beyond control,
For storms may fade to memory, but some are evermore
Kept in the hearts of those who faced the wild sea at Dunmore.

THE DAY THE O’GRADY FAMILY’S WORLD CHANGED

On the morning of 31 October 1966, a tragedy unfolded that would change the O’Grady family forever.

Johnny O’Grady had left home at around four o’clock that morning to haul lobster pots. As the hours passed and he failed to return, concern began to grow. Two of his children were at Carbally National School on the day, when their neighbour, Pat Caulfield, arrived to bring them home early.

At first, the children didn’t know what was happening. His daughter Rosy had gone down the road in the hope of meeting her father on his way home, and a message had been sent to the school saying she had a pain in her stomach and would be in later.

Eileen still remembers the moment when she realised something was wrong. The double doors between the two classrooms opened, Miss Power spoke quietly with Mrs Dick Murphy, and soon afterwards she was told that she could go home.

She had been sitting beside Stephen Nolan and, when she saw Pat Caulfield, she sensed that something was not right.

“Something’s going on, Stephen,” she said.

Eileen and her brother John then made their way home with Pat. One of the strongest memories Eileen carries from that day is of her mother, Chrissy, standing in the middle of the road, watching them come down towards the house.

Another daughter, Bernie, was only three at the time, Johnny was nearly seven, and Eileen was nine. They were too young to fully understand what had happened. They only knew that their father was missing.

Two days later, on Wednesday, 2 November, Johnny was recovered from the sea by members of the Garda Sub-Aqua Club.

The days that followed are remembered by Eileen in the way that childhood memories often remain, through small details. She remembers the house being full of people, neighbours calling, and food arriving. Most of all, she remembers the kitchen table covered with apple tarts and sandwiches.

She didn’t attend her father’s funeral. As she says herself, it was simply a different time.

But the tragedy of Johnny’s death did not end with the funeral. For Chrissy, left with a young family to raise, it marked the beginning of years of extraordinary hardship and sacrifice.

She worked at the Ocean Hotel, putting in hours that would be almost unimaginable today. During the day she worked upstairs with Mrs Ashley, looking after the bedrooms until three o’clock. After an hour off, she began another shift in the kitchen, doing the washing-up until midnight or sometimes one in the morning.

Then she had to walk home.

She worked liked this six and a half days a week, even on Christmas Day.

Looking back, Eileen remembers not only the loss of her father, but also the enormous burden her mother carried in the years that followed. Chrissy did what had to be done to keep her family together, working long hours while raising young children in circumstances that were anything but easy.

The loss of Johnny O’Grady was therefore more than the tragedy of one man lost to the sea on a cold autumn morning. For his family, it changed the course of their lives.

Almost sixty years later, the memories remain, a schoolroom door opening, a quiet conversation between teachers, a mother waiting in the road, a house filled with neighbours and apple tarts, and a young family beginning a life without their father.

It’s a deeply personal memory of loss, but also one of endurance, and the strength of a mother determined to keep her family going.

"I recently came across a poem about Johnny O’Grady Snr. R.I.P. in an old News & Star from November 1966. The author was Elsie Murray nee Ryan, identified in the paper by the initials L.C.. Elsie was from Waterford and used to holiday in Ballymacaw.

It’s a tribute to a man whose life was closely tied to the sea and to the Cove at Ballymacaw. I have reworked the original poem slightly so that the words flow more naturally as a song, while trying to remain faithful to the spirit and meaning of the original.

As I had only one photograph of Johnny, I created a series of pastel-style images to accompany the music and help illustrate the story told in the poem.

The result is this slideshow, “Johnny’s Not Gone”, a small tribute to Johnny O’Grady and to the memory of a figure whose absence was clearly felt deeply by his family and by those who knew him."

Johnny's Not Gone

Verse 1
So Johnny’s gone, the sea he loved
Has taken him at last,
Not in the winter’s raging storm
When foam and tide run fast.
Not on a clear spring morning
Beneath the seabird’s cry,
Nor on a calm blue summer sea
Beneath a shining sky.

Verse 2
But on a grey October morn,
With a north-west wind at sea,
He rowed to haul his lobster pots
As he had done faithfully.
He left the shore on Halloween,
His little boat sailed on,
But when the evening shadows fell,
Old Johnny had not come home.

Chorus
Johnny’s not gone, he’s all around,
In every wave and seabird’s sound,
In the wind that blows along the shore,
In the breakers’ mighty roar.
He’s in the salt spray, in the foam,
In every boat that’s heading home,
Though we may never see him now,
Johnny’s still among us somehow.

Verse 3
The Cove will never seem the same,
His boat no longer there,
His bicycle upon the hill
No longer waiting there.
We’ll miss his rugged smiling face,
His slow and stooping frame,
Coming home with pots and ropes
Along the cliff-top lane.

Chorus
Johnny’s not gone, he’s all around,
In every wave and seabird’s sound,
In the wind that blows along the shore,
In the breakers’ mighty roar.
He’s in the salt spray, in the foam,
In every boat that’s heading home,
Though we may never see him now,
Johnny’s still among us somehow.

Verse 4
And if he thought of life and death
While rowing on the foam,
Perhaps he knew the sea he loved
Would one day call him home.
He gave his lifetime to the sea,
And there his soul is bound,
So listen when the night wind blows —
You’ll hear him all around.

Bridge
In every crevice, every cave,
Where lapping waters sigh,
In the lonely call of herring gulls
That circle in the sky,
The breakers speak against the cliffs,
The white foam rises high,
And every sound along the shore
Still seems to say nearby

Johnny’s not gone...

Final Chorus
Johnny’s not gone, he’s all around,
In every wave and seabird’s sound,
In the wind that blows along the shore,
In the breakers’ mighty roar.
He’s in the salt spray, in the foam,
In every boat that’s heading home,
The sea may hold him evermore,
But Johnny’s still upon this shore.

Johnny’s not gone.
He’s all around.
In the wind,
In the waves,
In the seabird’s sound.

This is an epic song about the rescue of the St. Declan in 1950. Unfortunately, the lifeboat crew forgot the camera in their haste to put to sea, so I’ve had to create some of the photos to accompany the song. However, it’s well worth a listen, regardless of the pictures.

Paddy Billy and the St. Declan

[Verse 1]
On a cold December evening,
In nineteen fifty's year,
The snow came down on Dunmore,
And the gale was drawing near.
Five fishermen were missing,
And flares lit up the night,
So Paddy Billy took the helm,
And sailed towards their light.

[Verse 2]
The Annie Blanche Smith left Dunmore,
Through darkness, wind and foam,
To search along the rocky shore,
And bring the lost boys home.
Past Red Head and past Portally,
The searchlight swept the sea,
Till out beside the Falskirt Rocks,
The St. Declan they could see.

[Chorus]
Oh, Paddy Billy, hold her steady,
There's no time left to spare,
The Falskirt seas are breaking,
And death is waiting there.
Through snow and gale and darkness,
With the wild sea rolling on,
Bring the boys back home to Dunmore,
Before the night is gone.

[Verse 3]
Her nets were down behind her,
But still she drifted fast,
Stern-first towards the Falskirt,
Each minute seemed her last.
Two cables from destruction,
With the breakers roaring white,
Paddy knew within a moment,
He must get that tow-rope right.

[Verse 4]
“Bring her round and bring her closer,”
Was Paddy Billy's call,
For one mistake or broken rope
Could mean the loss of all.
The lifeboat's bow came sweeping in,
Through seas that rose and fell,
And Paddy cast the heaving line,
And threw it straight and well.

[Chorus]
Oh, Paddy Billy, hold her steady,
There's no time left to spare,
The Falskirt seas are breaking,
And death is waiting there.
Through snow and gale and darkness,
With the wild sea rolling on,
Bring the boys back home to Dunmore,
Before the night is gone.

[Verse 5]
A rope was bent onto the line,
The chain was fastened then,
And eighty fathoms followed,
Between the boats and men.
They cut away the fishing nets,
The lifeboat took the strain,
And slowly drew the St. Declan
From the rocks and out again.

[Verse 6]
For nearly one long mile they went,
Stern-first against the sea,
Till Falskirt’s rocks lay far astern,
And every man was free.
Then Paddy turned them homeward,
Through the darkness and the foam,
And midnight found the St. Declan
Safe in Dunmore harbour home.

[Bridge]
No cheering crowd was waiting,
No band played on the quay,
Just five men spared the Falskirt Rocks,
And given back by the sea.
For courage needs no trumpet,
And brave men seldom boast,
They simply go when others call,
Into the stormy coast.

[Final Chorus]
Oh, Paddy Billy, hold her steady,
As you've done so many times,
Through the gales around the Hook Head,
And the seas off Dunmore East.
And whenever storms blow over
And the Falskirt breakers roar,
We'll remember Paddy Billy
And the five he brought ashore.

[Outro]
So here's to Annie Blanche Smith,
And the crew who answered then,
And here's to Paddy Billy Power,
Who brought them home again.
When winter seas are rising,
And the wind blows hard and strong,
The rescue of the St. Declan
Will live in Dunmore's song.

This is a slideshow depicting the Battle of Baginbun, an incident that occurred in January 1966. The song used as the backing track was sung in the pubs of Dunmore during 1966 in praise of Michael Orpen.

I obtained the words from a post by Thomas McGrath some years ago, he had found them among his mother’s belongings. They have been put to music here using Suno, so the melody is probably different from the one originally used. Still, it’s worth a listen.

A full account of this incident can be read on this site at the following link: The Herring Boom of the 50's & 60's 

The Battle Of Baginbun

It was in the month of December
And the year was Nineteen Sixty Five,
When down off the South coast of Wexford
The trawlers began to arrive.
They came from the East and the West boys
As often before they had done,
To gather the big shoals of herring
In the Bay that is called Baginbun.

Chorus

Then here’s to our gallant young fishermen
Those brave boys so staunch and so true
They’ll raise up the cry “no surrender”
And conquer the Orange and Blue.

II

The New Year had only just started
When the Northmen appeared on the scene,
They intended to fish in our waters
Still flying the flag of the Queen.
You’ve heard of our struggle for freedom
To break from Britannia’s sway,
Well Haughey has now gone to join her
So he sent the Corvette to the fray.

Chorus

Then here’s to our gallant young fishermen
Those brave boys so staunch and so true
They’ll raise up the cry “no surrender”
And conquer the Orange and Blue.

III

Our men were not easily daunted
There was too much at stake to give in,
They still have an old score to settle
With Fish Buyer Johnnie Baldwin.
The trawlers were all in position
While shooting their nets in the Bay,
When the Ardent was rammed by the Victory
But the Victory had to give way.

Chorus

Then here’s to our gallant young fishermen
Those brave boys so staunch and so true
They’ll raise up the cry “no surrender”
And conquer the Orange and Blue.

IV

The Boys from the South gathered round them
When up came the Irish Navy,
The Corvette moved in with guns blazing
’Twas their first and last battle at sea.
No more will they sing God Save Ireland
No more will they fight for the Green,
For off Wexford they fought for the British
And now they’ll sing God Save the Queen.

Chorus

Then here’s to our gallant young fishermen
Those brave boys so staunch and so true
They’ll raise up the cry “no surrender”
And conquer the Orange and Blue.

V

Well brave Michael Orpen from Beara
Who skippered the trawler Ardent,
Was arrested in Dunmore on landing
And to Waterford City was sent.
He was charged and returned for trial
To him they refused to give bail,
So in case that the place could not hold him
They locked him in Limerick jail.

Chorus

Then here’s to our gallant young fishermen
Those brave boys so staunch and so true
They’ll raise up the cry “no surrender”
And conquer the Orange and Blue.

VI

Raise a toast to those brave men off Wexford
Who’ve been charged with all kinds of misdeeds,
They’ll fearlessly answer the charges
Let right vanquish might is their creed.
If the North wants to fish in our waters
There’s a way it can easily be done,
Tell the British abolish the Border
Then the North and the South can be one.

Chorus

Then here’s to our gallant young fishermen
And Orpen so gallant and true,
They raised up the cry “no surrender”
And scuttled the Orange and Blue.

This video is comprised of a selection of old photos of Dunmore with a musical backing for added enjoyment. Don’t forget to turn up the sound to hear the song.

The Dunmore That We Knew Before

Verse 1
I remember when the harbour woke
To the sound of oars and diesel smoke,
Fishing boats came home with the morning tide,
And the village gathered side by side.
Children ran where the old roads wound,
Past whitewashed walls and familiar ground,
And every face along the street
Was someone you were sure to meet.

Chorus
Oh Dunmore East, you’ve changed with time,
But the sea still keeps its old refrain,
The harbour lights still softly shine,
And the gulls still cry above the rain.
Though years have passed and things have gone,
There’s something here that still lives on,
In every wave that meets the shore,
You’re still the Dunmore we knew before.

Verse 2
The summers came and the crowds rolled in,
New houses rose where fields had been,
The old shops changed, familiar names
Slowly faded from window panes.
The punts grew fewer by the strand,
And new roads stretched across the land,
But down at sea when evening fell,
The harbour told the same old tale.

Chorus
Oh Dunmore East, you’ve changed with time,
But the sea still keeps its old refrain,
The harbour lights still softly shine,
And the gulls still cry above the rain.
Though years have passed and things have gone,
There’s something here that still lives on,
In every wave that meets the shore,
You’re still the Dunmore we knew before.

Verse 3
Now strangers walk the paths we knew,
And old familiar scenes are new,
Yet on a quiet winter day
You can almost hear the past at play.
The voices drift from years gone by,
In harbour wind and evening sky,
And those who loved this little place
Have left their memories in its face.

Chorus
Oh Dunmore East, you’ve changed with time,
But the sea still keeps its old refrain,
The harbour lights still softly shine,
And the gulls still cry above the rain.
Though years have passed and things have gone,
There’s something here that still lives on,
In every wave that meets the shore,
You’re still the Dunmore we knew before.

This song is derived from The Ballad of the Alfred D. Snow, an old song born in the aftermath of the storm on January 4th 1888, and kept alive by generations of seafaring voices. It still carries the weight of that January gale. This version has a new melody.

The Ballad Of The Alfred D. Snow

[Verse 1]

Of shipwrecks and disasters, we've read and seen a deal

But now the coast of Wexford must tell a dreadful tale

On the fourth day of January, the wind a gale did blow

And nine and twenty hands were lost on the Alfred D. Snow

[Verse 2]

From the port of San Francisco, she sailed across the main

Bound for the port of Liverpool, her cargo it was grain

On a happy day she sailed away to cross the stormy foam

There's not a soul alive today to bring the tidings home

[Chorus]

Oh mourn ye for the Alfred Snow where Wexford's wild seas roar

Nine and twenty gallant souls shall sail the seas no more

And long may they remembered be by all who dwell ashore

Who perished in that dreadful gale in sight of old Dunmore

[Verse 3]

If you'll attention pay to me, I won't detain you long

As I recall the mournful facts in this most feeling song

My feeble pen can scarce begin these verses for to write

No poet's brain can e'er explain the horrors of that night

[Verse 4]

The day before our ship was lost, most painful for to tell

She was like a feather in the wind, tossed up on every swell

She tried to make the harbour for the shelter of the land

When our good ship went to fragments next morning on the strand

[Chorus]

Oh mourn ye for the Alfred Snow where Wexford's wild seas roar

Nine and twenty gallant souls shall sail the seas no more

And long may they remembered be by all who dwell ashore

Who perished in that dreadful gale in sight of old Dunmore

[Verse 5]

The signals of distress were hoist by Captain Willie's hand

Heart-rending cries then rent the skies, no succour was at hand

The clouds, they darken o'er us, the foaming billows roar

Oh God, is there no assistance coming from Dunmore

[Verse 6]

Hark, what a splashing 'mid the wind, our spars are broken too

The yard's a-floating by her side, she's sinking in our view

Oh heavens, there are human beings now floating in the tide

Just look at that small fragile boat that's pumping at her side

[Chorus]

Oh mourn ye for the Alfred Snow where Wexford's wild seas roar

Nine and twenty gallant souls shall sail the seas no more

And long may they remembered be by all who dwell ashore

Who perished in that dreadful gale in sight of old Dunmore

[Verse 7]

Is there any heart of sympathy

Now watching from the shore?

Oh yes, there are brave and gallant boys

Still watching at Dunmore.

They’re willing now to risk their lives,

To the Coastguard house they go.

They ask the captain for the boat,

But he quickly tells them no.

[Verse 8]

At last, we’re told, he gave consent

To that noble-hearted crew.

In spite of storm and wind and sea,

To the sinking ship they flew.

But just as they reached the stricken ship,

The crew in hopes to save,

They saw the last man leave the mast

And sink beneath the wave.

[Chorus]

Oh mourn ye for the Alfred Snow where Wexford's wild seas roar

Nine and twenty gallant souls shall sail the seas no more

And long may they remembered be by all who dwell ashore

Who perished in that dreadful gale in sight of old Dunmore

[Verse 9]

There's only seven bodies found of twenty-nine in all

In consecrated clay they lie to await Saint Michael's call

To take a trip in the Saviour's ship, down along Jehova's shore

Where they'll meet the other twenty-two and part from them no more

[Chorus]

Oh mourn ye for the Alfred Snow where Wexford's wild seas roar

Nine and twenty gallant souls shall sail the seas no more

And long may they remembered be by all who dwell ashore
Who perished in that dreadful gale in sight of old Dunmore