We'll all be rooned!

For my 2021 St Patrick's Day post I am thinking about my Irish Catholic ancestors who lived in the Australian bush and sharing a poem by John O'Brien.  John O'Brien was the pseudonym for Catholic priest, Patrick Joseph Hartigan.

O'Brien's poems have a special meaning for me as my Grandmother, Mary Tierney, gave me when I was quite young a book of O'Brien's poems, Around the Boree Log, that she had owned. I treasure this book today as I have fond memories of reading these poems with Nanna Curry. I especially loved performing the poem I have chosen for today as I enjoyed putting emphasis on the  word "rooned" that is repeated throughout.

For people living in the bush as my Irish ancestors did the social aspect of Sunday Mass was most important. It gave them a chance to talk about the effects of Australia's harsh elements on their farming activities. I can imagine my ancestors gathered on Sundays in Dungog, Cobar, Cowra, Canowindra, Burraga and Bathurst taking part in conversations similar to those related in this poem.

You can hear a recitation of the poem, Said Hanrahan, from a recording on Youtube

The poem was first published in The Catholic Press (Sydney, NSW : 1895 - 1942), 31 July, p. 19. which is available here on Trove: http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article106072280. It was republished throughout the 1920s in many Australian newspapers and was published in O'Brien's collection Around the Boree Log in 1921. 

Following are all 21 verses of the poem.

SAID HANRAHAN by John O'Brien

"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan,
  In accents most forlorn,
Outside the church, ere Mass began,
  One frosty Sunday morn.


The congregation stood about,
  Coat-collars to the ears,
And talked of stock, and crops, and drought,
  As it had done for years.


"It's looking crook," said Daniel Croke;
  "Bedad, it's cruke, me lad,
For never since the banks went broke
  Has seasons been so bad."


"It's dry, all right," said young O'Neil,
  With which astute remark
He squatted down upon his heel
  And chewed a piece of bark.


And so around the chorus ran
  "It's keepin' dry, no doubt."
"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan,
  "Before the year is out."


"The crops are done; ye'll have your work
  To save one bag of grain;
From here way out to Back-o'-Bourke
  They're singin' out for rain.


"They're singin' out for rain," he said,
  "And all the tanks are dry."
The congregation scratched its head,
  And gazed around the sky.


"There won't be grass, in any case,
  Enough to feed an ass;
There's not a blade on Casey's place
  As I came down to Mass."


"If rain don't come this month," said Dan,
  And cleared his throat to speak -
"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan,
  "If rain don't come this week."


A heavy silence seemed to steal
  On all at this remark;
And each man squatted on his heel,
  And chewed a piece of bark.


"We want an inch of rain, we do,"
  O'Neil observed at last;
But Croke "maintained" we wanted two
  To put the danger past.


"If we don't get three inches, man,
  Or four to break this drought,
We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan,
  "Before the year is out."


In God's good time down came the rain;
  And all the afternoon
On iron roof and window-pane
  It drummed a homely tune.


And through the night it pattered still,
  And lightsome, gladsome elves
On dripping spout and window-sill
  Kept talking to themselves.


It pelted, pelted all day long,
  A-singing at its work,
Till every heart took up the song
  Way out to Back-o'-Bourke.


And every creek a banker ran,
  And dams filled overtop;
"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan,
  "If this rain doesn't stop."


And stop it did, in God's good time;
  And spring came in to fold
A mantle o'er the hills sublime
  Of green and pink and gold.


And days went by on dancing feet,
  With harvest-hopes immense,
And laughing eyes beheld the wheat
  Nid-nodding o'er the fence.


And, oh, the smiles on every face,
  As happy lad and lass
Through grass knee-deep on Casey's place
  Went riding down to Mass.


While round the church in clothes genteel
  Discoursed the men of mark,
And each man squatted on his heel,
  And chewed his piece of bark.


"There'll be bush-fires for sure, me man,
  There will, without a doubt;
We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan,
  "Before the year is out."

From Around the Boree Log and Other Verses, 1921

Mary Tierney 1887-1977

Remembering my Nanna Mary Curry (nee Tierney) whose was born on May 18, 1887.

Mary Tierney c1887

Aren't I lucky to have a baby photo of my Grandmother!

101 Reasons to Attend #congress_2018 - Thom Reed

I am one of the lucky ones who has met Thom Reed from Familysearch when I have been in Salt Lake City for Rootstech. I have gotten to know Thom through our Facebook friendship, he has struck me as a fun-loving and happy chap who is committed to his family and Family History. I can't wait to hear Thom present at Congress in March next year.

If you are coming to Congress in 2018 you too will have an opportunity to hear Thom present. Meanwhile you could follow him on Twitter, https://twitter.com/iamthomreed and watch his videos on Youtube, https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCqwfeKAMsc7C-zChXaYZxFw/videos.

In the interim take a look at Thom as he makes his Grandma Theora's Sweet Potato Pie.

My Grandmother's Birthday Book

My Grandmother's Birthday Book  was a post I read on Michelle's Heritage way back in 2011.

As I am in possession of My Grandmother's Birthday Book I thought it also worthy of a blog post.

My Nanna's book is an ordinary little volume with a dark green cover. It gives me an insight into her life.

Nanna's Birthday Book

The Birthday Book, Links of Memory, was published in London in 1890 and is still available from Amazon.co.uk. It has a religious theme, each date being accompanied by a religious text.

I love opening this insignificant book,seeing my grandmother's familiar handwriting and researching the names recorded. Many of these are her cousins some are residents of Dungog the town where she grew up. The dates in the book have been most helpful as I research family members.

School Holiday Fun...

...or the way to a grandmother's heart.

Eight year old grandson interrogating my family history website yesterday. He even found an error.

We followed this up with an inspection of Great-Grandpa's military medals. 

Then later when Grandson was scavenging in a coat cupboard he found his 4x Great-Grandfather's shillalegh which we were able to relate to the Irish side of the family previously found on the family website.

Birthday Girl

Today, 113 years after she was born I am remembering my wonderful Nanna Duncan by reposting this blog post from March 2010.
----------------------

Give Their Face A Place - Ethel at Elsinore

My grandmother Ethel Jane Pusell had a new house in which to raise her family. When my grandfather, Frank Duncan, returned from the WWI he was able, through the Soldiers Settlement Scheme, to gain a grant of Crown land on which he built a house for his bride, Ethel.

In this first photo from the 1920s Ethel is pictured with one of the five daughters she had with Frank. I think it may be my mother.

The 32,000 acres of land on which the simple timber house was built on the property "Elsinore" was 40 miles west of Cobar NSW. In 2010 this is a remote area, nearly 90 years ago it was extremely remote. Cobar, the nearest town, was a long carriage ride over rutted, red, dusty roads. Sydney and the coast was 700 km away. Life was tough, there were droughts, bushfires and loneliness.

My grandmother never complained about her lot in life; the stories she told of her early life were laced with the good humour with which she would have faced life at "Elsinore".















This post was prepared for:Smile for the Camera, 21st Edition -Give Their Face A Place - Women's History Month

Lullabies

Playing in my Grandmother's garden

One of the grandchildren who is having a sleepover at our home tonight has a bit of a lengthy bedtime ritual. As well as storytime there is "My Day" in which he and whomever is settling him down recount and share with each other the events of the day. We managed to get through these without waking his little sister who was asleep in the same room.

When he requested the lullaby that "Mummy always sings" I was flummoxed - for one thing I can't sing and secondly he couldn't recall the words of the lullaby so I could have a crack at it. As he was quite insistent I dug down into my long-term memory and recalled a little prayer that my paternal grandmother used to say to me when I stayed with her overnight.

My grandson was quite happy with the "lullaby" that my grandmother used to share with me and has now settled down for the night.

There are four corners on my bed
There are four angels overhead
Saints Matthew, Mark, Luke and John 
God bless this bed I lay upon.

My grandmother, Mary Tierney

I have just found the second verse to this on the internet but am glad that I hadn't recalled and shared it with my grandson as he is a sensitive little boy.

And if I die before I wake
I pray to God my sould to take,
And if any evil comes to me,
Blessed Lady waken me.

I am now recalling the many happy times I spent with my grandmother, Mary Tierney, at Brighton-le-sands during regular visits and in school holidays and wishing that I had listened more intently to her stories. I can, however, more than fifty years later remember all of the words of the hymns she used to sing with me!

Give Their Face A Place - Ethel at Elsinore

My grandmother Ethel Jane Pusell had a new house in which to raise her family. When my grandfather, Frank Duncan, returned from the WWI he was able, through the Soldiers Settlement Scheme, to gain a grant of Crown land on which he built a house for his bride, Ethel.

In this first photo from the 1920s Ethel is pictured with one of the five daughters she had with Frank. I think it may be my mother.

The 32,000 acres of land on which the simple timber house was built on the property "Elsinore" was 40 miles west of Cobar NSW. In 2010 this is a remote area, nearly 90 years ago it was extremely remote. Cobar, the nearest town, was a long carriage ride over rutted, red, dusty roads. Sydney and the coast was 700 km away. Life was tough, there were droughts, bushfires and loneliness.

My grandmother never complained about her lot in life; the stories she told of her early life were laced with the good humour with which she would have faced life at "Elsinore".















This post was prepared for: Smile for the Camera, 21st Edition -Give Their Face A Place - Women's History Month