Inchigeelagh Lass
A man called Harold Delaney composed the song "My Inchigeela Lass". He was a Fenian who was on the run and happened to be at Mass in Inchigeela Church one Sunday morning when the church was surrounded by soldiers and yeomen who were ready to capture him. A young girl called Máire Uí Rathailligh, who was related to Delaney, took him to the bottom of the church and exchanged clothes with him. Delaney went out dressed as a woman and was not recognised by the soldiers. He headed for Cobh and boarded a ship for America. The song "My Inchigeela Lass" is a song of praise about this girl Máire.
My Inchigeela Lass
I greet you proud Iveleary's sons and daughters fair and true
Assembled at the south-end club, old friendships to renew,
This annual opportunity I'm loth to let it pass
Ere I recite a tale to-night of my Inchigeela Lass.
Iveleary ah, how sweet your name rings in an exile's ear
Tho'I've not seen those heath clad hills those five and twenty years,
T'was there I met my heart's delight one Sunday morn at Mass
As I knelt in prayer in the chapel there with my Inchigeela Lass.
She was modest as the cooing dove and gentle as the fawn
That roam over Desmond's storied heights, those highlands o'er Gougane
No goddess fair in Grecian days in beauty could surpass
My winsome rogue, my Máirín Óg, my Inchigeela Lass.
Like all the boys along the Lee I joined a rebel band
And pledged myself to freedom's cause for dear old motherland
An outlaw, I was chased from Cork to Keimaneigh's famed Pass
And forced to flee from Erin's Lee and my Inchigeela Lass.
Before I from my native land for ever would depart
I slipped beyond the soldier's lines to the darling of my heart
Her pictures on the moonlit lake that mirrored as in glass
The pattern queen of sweet Keimeen, my Inchigeela Lass.
Over Muskerry's heights and Shehy slopes a waning moon shone pale
As I clasped her to my heart that night in Keimeen's emerald vale
And when inside her cottage door her nimble form did pass
T'was the last I saw of my Cailín Breá, my Inchigeela Lass.
I sped thro' Inniscarra's groves before the dawn of day
To a passage in a Yankee ship that in Queenstown Harbour lay
The Captain being a Fenian bold my safety to compass
And the ship set sail from Gráinne Mhaol and my Inchigeela Lass.
Oh, what became of Máirín Óg, Iveleary's fairest flower
She drooped as drops the May bloomed leaves, belated Winter showers
The Autumn trees had shed their leaves as they laid her'neath the grass
My promised bride, Iveleary's pride, my Inchigeela Lass.
Were I beside the Lee to-night I'd quickly find the spot
Where Máirín smile brought sunshine to her widowed mother's cot
The smile that lit the eyes of my sweet Cailín deas
Still cheers my way, I will always pray for my Inchigeela Lass.
Iveleary, ah Iveleary, far away across the wave
You own what I prize most on earth, my Máirín's moss-grown grave
My present habitation is in Broadway, Boston, Mass.
And the Buachaill Rua is always true to his Inchigeela Lass.
| De Banks
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Though more associated with Cortk city, Inchigeelagh is actually the only other
village in Cork that is built around that famous river.
For that reason it deserves to be included here.
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The Banks of my own lovely Lee
How oft do my thoughts in their fancy take flight
To the home of my childhood away,
To the days when each patriot's vision seem'd bright
Ere I dreamed that those joys should decay.
When my heart was as light as the wild winds that blow
Down the Mardyke through each elm tree,
Where I sported and play'd 'neath each green leafy shade
On the banks of my own lovely Lee.
And then in the springtime of laughter and song
Can I ever forget the sweet hours?
With the friends of my youth as we rambled along
'Mongst the green mossy banks and wild flowers.
Then too, when the evening sun's sinking to rest
Sheds its golden light over the sea
The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee
The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee
'Tis a beautiful land this dear isle of song
Its gems shed their light to the world
And her faithful sons bore thro' ages of wrong,
The standard St. Patrick unfurled.
Oh! would I were there with the friends I love best
And my fond bosom's partner with me
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee,
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee,
Oh what joys should be mine ere this life should decline
To seek shells on thy sea-girdled shore.
While the steel-feathered eagle, oft splashing the brine
Brings longing for freedom once more.
Oh all that on earth I wish for or crave
Is that my last crimson drop be for thee,
To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave
On the banks of my own lovely Lee
To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave
On the banks of my own lovely Lee.
An Dreoilín
An Dreoilín
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Dán beag gleoite faoin mion ean sin an dreoilín (The Wren).
Téinn beim ar an t-ean seo siar fada i stair agus cáil na h-Eireann,
agus tá la mor acu go deo ar an 26ú la de mí na Nollaig.
Dreolín a fuaireas-sa thíos ar an Inse,
Fé bhrághaid carraige a's carabhat síoda air,
Do thugas-sa chughaibh-se é, a lánamha an tighe seo,
'Gus gura seacht bhfearra um an dtaca so arís sibh.
Dreoilín a thugas-sa chugat-sa, a Dhiarmaid,
Ní mar dhúil i lionn ná i n-iarsma,
Ach mar dhúil sa tsúgradh d'iarraidh,
Do bhíodh in ár ndúthaigh lá cinn bhliadhna.
Dreoilín a thugas-sa chugat-sa, a Shiobhán,
Ní mar dhúil i lionn ná i n-arán,
Ach mar dhúil sa tsúgradh a choimeád
Do bhíodh in ár ndúthaigh Lá le Stíofán.
D'imithigh an dreoilín anonn thar muir
O lúib na carraige uainn do rith,
Is mó duine ag faire air ó Luan go Satharn
Gan ball ná baile aige ach scáth an tuir.
Dreoilín óir an dreoilín,
A's beidh ór i bpóca an dreolín,
Dreoilín airgid fé bhinn-fhallaing,
Agus Mac na Banba an dreoilín.
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Micheal O'Leary
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Micheal O'Leary was born and raised in Kilbarry, a hamlet 2 miles east of Inchigeelagh.
In 1914, at the age of 18, he followed John Redmond's call and joined the Irish Guards Regiment
in the British Army. In that pointless and terrible war, he was one of the few soldiers
to receive Victoria Cross (the highest order in the British Army for Bravery), while still alive.
After the war in 1919, Micheal came home to Inchigeelagh to a hero's welcome. Below
is the poem oratored to Micheal on his return home. It was written by Paddy Casey of Inchigeelagh.
Once again our well known hero
from the strains of war is free
fnd on leave has just returned
to his homestead by the Lee
You may well guess what has happened
by the bonefires near and far
and the loud "Céad Míle Fáilte"s
For our Irish Fighting Star !
Hear the voices cross the waters
each a welcome grand and true
every nation seem to utter
"Micheal we're proud of you"
And his name in history ever
as a hero brave will stand
and will prove itself immortal
in the annals of our land
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