This is one of my favorite Irish Rebel songs, full of insults and curses. It was a coded message, the Drake being a reference to Robert Emmet (1778-1803). Tommy Makem and the Clancy Brothers recorded it once, but here’s a decent version.
If you can’t read it proper, here’s the transcription, with explanatory footnotes compiled with help on the Irish slang from Mr. Eoin Shalloo, Curator of Rare Books, National Library of Scotland, after the break.
NELL FLAHERTY’S DRAKE[1]
[As transcribed from Published Version (ca 1803?) by Bunk Strutts 2006.]
My name it is Nell,[2] quite candid I tell,
And I live near C’oethill I will never deny;[3]
I had a large drake, the truth for to speak,
That my grandmother left me and she going to die.
He was wholesome and sound, he’d weigh twenty pound,
And the universe round I’d rove for his sake.
Bad wind to the robber, be him drunk or sober,
That murdered Nell Flaherty’s beautiful Drake.
His neck it was green[4], most rare to be seen,
He was fit for a Queen of the highest degree;
His body was white, it would you delight,
He was plump, fat, and heavy and brisk as a bee.
My dear little fellow, his legs they were yellow,
He’d fly like a swallow or swim like a hake;
Till some wicked savage to grease his white cabbage,
Has murdered Nell Flaherty’s Beautiful Drake.
May his pig never grunt, may his cat never hunt,
That a ghost may him haunt in the dead of the night,
May his hen never lay, may his ass never bray,
May his goat[5] fly away like an old paper kite.
That the flies and the fleas the wretch ever tease,
May the piercing north-breeze make him tremble and shake;
May a four-year old bug build a nest in his lug,[6]
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s Drake.
May his cock never crow—may his bellows ne’er blow,
And for bed, pot and poe may he never have none;[7]
May his cradle not rock[8], may his box have no lock,
May his wife have no smock to shade her back-bone,
May his duck never quack, may his goose turn black,
And pull down his turf with his long yellow beak,[9]
May the scurvy and itch never part from the breech,[10]
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s Drake.
May his pipe never smoke, may his tea-pot be broke,
And add to the joke, may his tea-kettle ne’er boil,
May he pooley[11] the bed til the hour he is dead,
May he always be fed on lobsconse[12] and fish oil.
May he swell with the gout, may his grinders[13] fall out,
May he roar, bawl and shout with the horrid tooth-ache,
May his temples wear horns, and all his toes corns,
The monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s Drake.
May his spade never dig, may his sow never pig,
May each nit in his wig be as large as a snail,
May his door have no latch, may his house have no thatch,
May his turkey not hatch, may the rats eat his meal.
May every old fairy from Cork to Dunleary,
Dip him smug and airy in some pond or lake,
Where the eel and the trout dine on his snout
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s Drake.
May his dog yelp and growl with both hunger and cold,
May his wife always scold till his brains go astray,
May the curse of each hag that e’er carried a bag,
May light on the vag[14] till his head turns grey.
May monkies[15] still bite him, mad dogs affright him,
And everyone slight him, asleep or awake,
May the wasps[16] still gnaw him and jack-daws[17] claw him,
The monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s Drake.
The only good news I have diffuse[18],
That Peter Hughes and Feter McCabe,
And big nose Bob Hanson, and buck tooth Norhamoen[19]
Each man has a grandson of my beautiful Drake.
My bird he has dozens of both nephews and cousins,[20]
And due[21] I must get or my heart it will break;
To set my mind easy, or else I’ll run crazy -
This ends the whole story of Nell Flaherty’s Drake.
[1] “This Irish ballad was written in the nineteenth century. The words are said to be secret code for Robert Emmet (1778-1803). Robert Emmet helped plan and lead an uprising in Dublin in 1803. Forced to act early because of an explosion at one of the arms depots, the uprising disintegrated into chaos. Wearing a green and white uniform , Emmet and a small troop marched on Dublin Castle, killing the Lord Chief Justice on the way. He fled, hoping to escape to America with his fiancé Sarah Curran. He was captured and hung. At his trial, Emmet requested that no epitaph be written for him until Ireland took her place among the nations of the earth.” –Lesley Nelson-Burns
The assumption is that this was written and published shortly after Emmet was hung, to let other rebels know that they weren’t alone and the fight was still on.
Obscure word definitions were obtained from Webster’s Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary of the English Language, copyright 1996 by Gramercy Books, a division of Random House Value Publishing, Inc., New York.
[2] Nell would be Robert Emmet’s fiancé in this song, Sarah Curran. Emmet would be her Drake. (Note the capitalization.)
[3]Some versions refer to “Coothill.” Published version may actually be C’osthill, from OE word, “oast,” a kiln for drying hops or malt, essential for brewers. That she won’t deny that she’s from there suggests that the locals had a reputation.
“‘Coet’hill’ could be Cootehill in County Cavan, but as far as I know Sarah Curran was from Dubln.” –Eoin Shalloo, Curator, Rare Book Collections, National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh.
[4] Reference to Ireland’s flag at rest: “Head” green; “Body” white; “Feet”, yellow.
[5] “Coat” in other transcriptions.
[6] A lug is a sail. A bug refers to a ghost, or a daemon. That it’s a four-year old one begs the question: What Irish rebel died in 1799?
“‘Lug” is also a word for ear. A number of Irish rebels were executed after the 1798 rebellion – this may be a reference to one of them.” –Eoin Shalloo, Curator, Rare Book Collections, National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh.
[7] Indoor plumbing was rare. The pot (pisspot) was a container for urine. The “poe” or po was a chamber pot for night soil. If one had neither, one would have to venture outside at night in the cold. Not pleasant.
[8] May he have no children.
[9] British slang: be kicked out of office. Yellow: craven, corrupt. Beak: Judge, Magistrate.
[10] Breech in this case is his posterior.
[11] Pooley: one can only guess the true meaning, and it’s probably not nice.
[12] This may be a pun on “lobscouse”, a sailor’s stew of meat, potatoes, onions and hardtack. Lob was a dullard, sconse was a skull.
[13] Molars.
[14] Or wag, short for vagabond. Both words have common origins in OE and latin.
[15] Mockers, from moneke, to mock.
[16] Wasps in OE and ME were “persons who are snappy or petulant.”
[17] Relatives of crows, known to nest in towers and ruins.
[18] [sic] Implies a veiled imperative to others to spread the message.
[19] Other versions refer to Peter Hughes, blind Peter McFree, big nose Bob Manson, and buck-toothed Ned Hanson; or Johnny Dwyer and Corney Maguire.
[20] There are more rebels who have taken up Emmet’s cause.
[21] Due, as in due justice, a payback, revenge. “Nell” does not want her fiancé’s death to be in vain. Some transcriptions use “one”, but it makes no sense in this context.
[Previously posted here.]
► Hot LinksTags: ballad, Broadside, History, Ireland, Irish, Rebel Songs, St. Patrick's Day
Why do Weezy and Jimmah come to mind?
snork wrote:
It’s no wonder. They are well known duck nappers.
This is cool Bunk! Thanks!
This Kipling poem, “Cleared,” may be a little too British for St. Patrick’s Day, dealing as it does with the Parnell Commission.
Nonetheless, it does deal with things Irish, and the contempt in the poem, and the corrosive final stanza, are well worth reading:
If black is black or white is white, in black and white it’s down,
You’re only traitors to the Queen and rebels to the Crown.
If print is print or words are words, the learned Court perpends: —
We are not ruled by murderers, but only — by their friends.
I never want to get my wifes Irish up
//tis not good I tells yah
Forgot to mention that the Drake had FULDKOMMEN GAK.
KUKKUK!
“May every old fairy from Cork to Dunleary,
Dip him smug and airy in some pond or lake,
Where the eel and the trout dine on his snout…”
They knew about LGF back then?
Here’s Tommy Makem & the Clancy Bros. version.
Hasn’t anyone ever told you Flaherty will get you nowhere?
@ snork:
Heh.
snork wrote:
I rish you hadn’t started the comments with an LGF ref.
an Lucht Siúil….. the heratige of the one who shall not be named
hmmm….ex wife was from ireland…i know the rebel stuff. so here’s a drive by:
The song describes raids by British soldiers, and the “men behind the wire” refers to those held without charge or trial at Long Kesh prison camp, Magilligan prison camp and on board the Maidstone Prison Ship. McGuigan himself was picked up in a later round of internment, which some saw as the British State’s revenge for writing the song (wiki).
i shall keep my irish republican history to myself on this night, so here goes.
Men Behind the Wire.
Armoured cars and tanks and guns
Came to take away our sons
But every man must stand behind
The men behind the wire
Through the little streets of Belfast
In the dark of early morn
British soldiers came marauding
Wrecking little homes with scorn
Heedless of the crying children
Cragging fathers from their beds
Beating sons while helpless mothers
Watched the blood poor from their heads
Not for them a judge and jury
Nor indeed a trial at all
But being Irish means you´re guilty
So we´re guilty one and all
Round the world the truth will echo
Cromwell´s men are here again
England´s name again is sullied
In the eyes of honest men.
Proud we march behind our banner
Firm we´ll stand behind our men
We will have them free to help us
Build a nation once again
On the people step together
Proudly firmly on their way
Never fear never falter
Till the boys are home to stay
Boulavogue:
At Boolavogue as the sun was setting
O’er the bright May meadows of Shelmalier
A rebel hand set the heather blazing
and brought the neighbours from far and near
Then Father Murphy from old Kilcormack
Spurred up the rock with a warning cry:
“Arm! Arm!” he cried, “For I’ve come to lead you
for Ireland’s freedom we’ll fight or die!”
He lead us on against the coming soldiers
And the cowardly Yeomen we put to flight
‘Twas at the Harrow the boys of Wexford
Showed Bookey’s regiment how men could fight
Look out for hirelings, King George of England
Search every kingdom where breathes a slave
For Father Murphy of County Wexford
Sweeps o’er the land like a mighty wave
We took Camolin and Enniscorthy
And Wexford storming drove out our foes
‘Twas at Slieve Coilte our pikes were reeking
With the crimson blood of the beaten Yeos
At Tubberneering and Ballyellis
Full many a Hessian lay in his gore
Ah! Father Murphy had aid come over
The Green Flag floated from shore to shore!
At Vinegar Hill, O’er the pleasant Slaney
Our heroes vainly stood back to back
and the Yeos at Tullow took Father Murphy
and burnt his body upon a rack
God grant you glory, brave Father Murphy
And open Heaven to all your men
the cause that called you may call tomorrow
in another fight for the Green again
“Boolavogue” is a famous Irish ballad commemorating the Irish Rebellion of 1798. It was composed by Patrick Joseph McCall in 1898, for the centenary of the Rebellion issued Irish Noíníns (Dublin 1894).[1]
Father John Murphy of the town of Boolavogue in County Wexford led his parishioners in routing the Camolin Cavalry on May 26, 1798. The Wexford insurgents were eventually defeated at the Battle of Vinegar Hill on June 21 and Father Murphy and the other rebel leaders were hanged.
McCall, who also composed the popular Irish ballads “Kelly the Boy from Killanne” and “Follow Me up to Carlow”, wrote “Boolavogue” to the old Irish air “Eochaill” (“Youghal Harbour”). The tune was later used in the Australian traditional song “Moreton Bay”, about an Irish convict’s travails in Australia, and was also used by Seán Ó Riada as part of the film score for Mise Éire (1959). The song is inspired by songs contemporary to the events of 1798 such as Come All You Warriors wiki).
i do miss my time in ireland, and will have a pint for those taken.
On Smithsonian Channel they were talking about Cromwell’s wars against Ireland.
coldwarrior wrote:
Irish women are the good, the bad, and the ugly.
The good: Loppy
The bad: WIR
The ugly: Asswhistle
the wolfe tones, men behind the wire.
it is not st paddy’s without it
Rodan wrote:
Cromwell was nasty. Wanted to starve the Irish to death by cutting off their corn supply, leaving them with nothing but dirt and plagued potatoes to survive.
snork wrote:
ahhh, mine is a good one too…gave a me a drop dead gorgeous daughter…and no, i am not kidding about that
Thanks Bunk!
I visted Ireland (the Republicm not Northern Ireland), and the countryside is rife with memorials to the IRA, as are the ancient churches. Being an American, I engaged people about the IRA and they were all quick to inform me that the “old IRA” were their contry’s liberators, much like our own ragtag Continental Army in the early days of the Revolution. They also warned me to to equate them with the current IRA, who are no more than a band of organized criminals and terrorists, and were somewhat indignant that they used the same name.
Of course, this was before 9/11, and after than time the modern IRA lowered their profile and did not want to equate themselves with the likes of the Muslims.
@ Bunk X:
Yup they should that. He was a nasty jerk.
@ MacDuff:
I made a comment late last night that I almost deleted. Had to do with the “chip-on-the-shoulder” mentality of some cultures that are historically rooted in tribalism. Thomas Sowell noted the same, and linked European tribal culture to the redneck culture of the modern south.
Fuck that. The Pogues Rock.
the dubliners and the pougues!
Holy moly, there are a lot of flavors of fruits and nuts.
Rodan wrote:
Nasty jerk is an understatement. He committed genocide against the Irish; just the mention of him in the Republic is like mentioning Hitler in a synogogue.
Actually, Cromwell came to be hated by the British as he attempted to usurp and overthrow the Crown. He was exhumed long after his death by the British, and hanged.
@ Bunk X:
i saw the pogues live…ready for this….15 times.
pbbbtttttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
@ MacDuff:
The American Colonialists hated him as well this special was saying. This is the reason they set up checks and balances to prevent an usurper. Unfortunately we have Obama who by his own words doesn’t care about process just results.
the drop kick murphys…
saw them in boston 2000, 2002
pgh 2003 2008
@ coldwarrior:
Wrath was posting videos from them.
irish gospel….RIP ronnie drew.
i am sad.
Rodan wrote:
the murphys take the classic irish and combine it with punk…they are one of my favorites of all times
coldwarrior wrote:
Póg mo thóin! It’s “POGUES,” bro!
a young ronnie drew.
Bunk X wrote:
they used to open for the cure in berlin!
@ coldwarrior:
And you didn’t call me once? Póg mo thóin x2! =)
UP THE REPUBLIC!!!
@ Bunk X:
i’m writing about meeting the dubliners….hold on!
Bunk X wrote:
During my visit to Ireland, I listened to a lot of Irish folk music and, being from Kentucky, I remarked to my wife “my God, that’s Kentucky Bluegrass music with an Irish brogue!”
Yes, much of the so-called “hillbilly’ culture is a direct offspring of British, Scottish and Irish culture. Case in point; remember on the “Beverly Hillbillies”, when they talked about “vittles” in terms of food? It’s an Americanization of the old English word “victuals”, which ment a meal, as in “taking victuals”.
The “moonshining” tradition, and knowledge, was also a direct transplant from imigrants from the British Isles.
ya know what…i’ll make that meeting of the Dubliners and ronnie drew a post for this weekend
@ MacDuff:
bingo…look at a history of the whiskey rebellion…follow it down to KY….
@ MacDuff:
I remember when Irish dancing became internationally popular….Lord of the Dance and all of that. When I first saw it, I said, “Hey! They’re clogging!” It was all Blue Ridge Mtns to me!
wolfie wrote:
its all the same!
coldwarrior wrote:
I met the Fenians when they were just a small time bar band. Pbbbtttt.
This was the first St. Patrick’s Day I took off work. Told the rest of the staff to stay home, which was easy because I’m the only one there. Mrs. Strutts and I met some friends at a pub in Seal Beach. At 11AM the place was already crowded and loud, mostly with guys in their late 20′s.
By 2PM, the place was packed, cops were closing off streets, and the cougars started showing up. Erin Go Braghless…
We left a half hour later so I could make a beer run before the kids got home. Mrs. Strutts had a brisket in the crockpot, so we’re having a traditional Irish meal of corned beef and garbage tonight.
@ Bunk X:
I met the Fenians when they were just a small time bar band. Pbbbtttt.
nice!
i do miss ireland
my ex-grand mother in law related this to me…she was there, in Dublin, witnessing rebellion, in 1916.
At four minutes past noon on Easter Monday, April 24th, 1916, a sudden hush fell over the O’Connell Street. From the steps of the General Post Office Patrick Pearse read the Proclamation of the Republic:
POBLACHT NA h-EIREANN
THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT OF THE
IRISH REPUBLIC
TO THE PEOPLE OF IRELAND
IRISHMAN AND IRISHWOMEN: In the name of God and of the dead generations from which she receives her old tradition of nationhood, Ireland, through us, summons her children to her flag and strikes for her freedom.
Having organized and trained her manhood through her secret revolutionary organization, the Irish Republican Brotherhood, and through her open military organizations, the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Citizen Army, having patiently perfected her discipline, having resolutely waited for the right moment to reveal itself, she now seizes that moment, and, supported by her exiled children in America and by gallant allies in Europe, but relying in the first on her own strength, she strikes in full confidence of victory.
We declare the right of the people of Ireland to the ownership of Ireland, and to the unfettered control of Irish destinies, to be sovereign and indefeasible. The long usurpation of that right by a foreign people and government has not extinguished the right, nor can it ever be extinguished except by the destruction of the Irish people. In every generation the Irish people have asserted their right to national freedom and sovereignty; six times during the past three hundred years they have asserted it in arms. Standing on that fundamental right and again asserting it in arms in the face of the world, we hereby proclaim the Irish Republic as a Sovereign Independent State. And we pledge our lives and the lives of our comrades-in-arms to the cause of its freedom, of its welfare, and of its exaltation among the nations.
The Irish Republic is entitled to, and hereby claims, the allegiance of every Irishman and Irish woman. The Republic guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities of all its citizens, and declares its resolve to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and of all its parts, cherishing all the children of the nation equally, and oblivious of the differences carefully fostered by an alien government, which have divided a minority in the past.
Until our arms have brought the opportune moment for the establishment of a permanent National Government, representative of the whole people of Ireland and elected by the suffrages of all her men and women, the Provision Government, hereby constituted, will administer the civil and military affairs of the Republic in trust for the people.
We place the cause of the Irish Republic under the protection of the Most High God, Whose blessing we invoke upon our arms, and we pray that no one who serves that cause will dishonour it by cowardice, inhumanity, or rapine. In this supreme hour the Irish nation must, by its valour and discipline and by the readiness of its children to sacrifice themselves for the common good, prove itself worthy of the august destiny to which it is called.
Signed on behalf of the Provisional Government,
THOMAS J. CLARKE
SEAN MAC DIERMADA THOMAS MACDONAGH
P.H.PEARSE EAMONN CEANNT
JAMES CONNOLLY JOSEPH PLUNKETT
@ Bunk X:
There’s a bar in the Ft. Worth area called ‘Pog Mahoney’s’ or something close to that.
coldwarrior wrote:
Actually, i live in the ‘burbs of Louisville, but had the opportuniy to visit the family of a close friend from Eastern KY. We had a wonderful meal, after which the men retired to the kitchen and partook in some ‘shine, distilled by my host. Great stuff, smooth as silk, with a touch of honey. Then we went to the woods and did some target shooting. Great times!
@ MacDuff:
I noticed the Irish/Scottish influence in older country music and especially bluegrass. Both the Irish and Scots tended to move southward, through the Shenandoah Valley, just to be as far away from the city folks as they could get. They just wanted to be left alone.
The similarity of the music patterns between the European jigs and reels and early American folk music is obvious to me.
MacDuff wrote:
i am jealous of that!
they are there because the scots irish rebelled in pittsburgh
@ coldwarrior:
They didn’t like being called “Yinzers.”
coldwarrior wrote:
Thank you for posting that; it has a familiar ring to it and, thus the U.S. and the Irish Republic have a common bond.
Erin Go Bragh!
Bunk X wrote:
too bad…they are yinzers by heritage!
@ MacDuff:
i would get to ireland, drop my bags, and go straight to her home and then take her out in dublin…for hours and hours she could tell the history of the rising, we would go to the pubs were she was as a deb of 16 years and recount the heady times of new nationhood, hangings, and bombardment…
i do miss her, and RIP
OT
Muslim illegal immigrant stopped from raping UK woman by HERO Rottweiler DOG
and
Muslim Savagely Beats & Attempts Rape of NYC Nurse for “dissing” him
You guys should include The Opinionater on your blogroll.
@ wolfie:
Yeah I remember those specials.
@ Rodan:
what up….
We had the Pogues and Dropkick Murphy on all day in my office. Much to the dismay of some.
I was searching for an Iceweasel post from some time ago, one where the silly creature was attempting to defame the great Mark Steyn, and I came across this oddity: http://www.geticeweasel.org/iceweasel_humping.gif
I got a good laugh out of it.
The Fenians are a lotta fun live. Utoobage videos are pretty sucky, though.
http://www.thefenians.com/recordings.html
@ garycooper:
the pogues…pure magic.
Well, folks, the time has come for the sleep of the just. The Guinness hath been quaffed, and it hath performed its duty.
To all my friends:
“May the wind be always at yer back, may the sun shine warmly on yer face, may the rain fall gently upon yer fields, and may ye be an hour in Heaven before the Devil knows yer dead.“
The real ending is “and may God hold you all in the hollow of his hand“, but I always liked the former.
Happy St. Paddy’s!
Got my census form today. Answered the number of people in the house, noted ‘Race’ as ‘Native American’ for both my wife & I, and filled the rest out in letters so tiny they’ll need a magnifying glass to read ‘em. It’s not the government’s BUSINESS how old we are or whether we own our home.
best pogues
Irish blessing:
May those who love you, love you.
And may those who don’t love you, may God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn’t turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles, so we’ll know them by their limping.
coldwarrior wrote:
May God bless her, and I have no doubt that He has. RIP, daughter of the old sod.
@ Bunk X:
It seems that so much Irish music is one of two extremes.
It’s either full joy & passion, or it’s full of sorrow. Doesn’t seem to be any middle ground.
@ mjazz:
It’s DONE.
@ savage:
Wow, great, thank you!
Incoming thread in one minute
@ coldwarrior:
Just chilling watching TV.
MacDuff wrote:
every easter and every st patricks.
@ coldwarrior:
That’s a classic. McGowan is the Irish answer to Keith Richards for longevity while under self medication.
Bunk X wrote:
both are vampires….they have to be!
@ mfhorn:
They already know. This census flap is just that. Flap.
@ mjazz:
My old City is being over run.
mfhorn wrote:
I think that that’s a reflection of the Irish culture.
mfhorn wrote:
The middle ground are the Rebel Songs!
@ coldwarrior:
A cousin of me grandfather is amongst those.
@ Poteen:
NICE! which
Mac Diermada
The McDermotts.
Poteen wrote:
do u know any mcdermotts in youngstown ohio area?
@ coldwarrior:
Not myself. Mine are mostly spread out from Illinois. My mother did some ancestry tracing to the same town in Ireland as Ceann Mac D.
@ Poteen:
right on…i am raging on the next thread…put on eye protections and come with me