16
Sat, Jan

Eamonn McDonagh Does a Bit of 'Moriarty' In A Little Pub in London



Eamonn is a long time supporter of the Irish American Heritage Center, a Chicago actor with loads of stage plays under his belt and television too. He is also a contractor in his spare time!

He is a natural storyteller with the gift of gab and a delivery that grabs your attention.

Listen as he waxes eloquently about "A Little Pub in Ireland"

those of you with sturdy hearts,
who want to know the ending
we put it here for you to read,
its dark clouds now descending
be forewarned, Moriarty's heading,
for a very unhappy ending . . .

   

In a little Pub in London   

In a little Pub in London, Moriarty drank his beer
Recited wondrous stories of his exploits far and near
Sing an Irish song said Kelly, best of order one an all
Then Moriarty sang for them the Hills of Donegal
There was cheering at the finish and a call encore encore
Moriarty said listen lads, I can't sing any more

So he stood there sad and silent and gazed into his beer
Then his eyes a glistened started a tear
Are you going home for Christmas the kindly barmaid said
Moriarty fixed his gaze on her and slowly shook his head
Sure I haven't been to Ireland now for twenty years or more
My Mother would hardly know me if I walked up to the door

I was born said Moriarty on an Island of the west
The last place God created but the first place that he blessed
We were poor but we were happy in our simple little way
My God I wish I was a boy again to live my youthful days

My Father God be good to him, was drowned one woeful night
And my mother left all lonesome and myself to work and fight
So with Donal Ruadh McCarthy and Young Mihael Og'S'
I came across to England to earn an honest pay

I told my dear old Mother I'd soon be home again
But the curse of drink came over me and enslaved me in its chain
So I haven't been to Ireland now for twenty years or more
But I know She's still there waiting for my footsteps at the door

Then someone started singing amid the winters snow
It was like an old bell ringing, far away and long ago
Moriarty stood and listened, then pushed his glass away
And he made a solemn promise; he'd go home for Christmas day

So he scraped up every penny he could get into his hand
And coming up to Christmas he sailed for Ireland
His heart was filed with gladness and he felt content at last
As the train rolled through the midlands that brought him to the west

In the village of Kinsheelagh, that night upon the shore
Far across the deep blue waters, he saw his island home once more
The stars were shining brightly; sure they glistened like a dome
On that little white washed cottage, was Moriartys home

Tis a grand night for the sailing, said the boatman Tomas Bawn
Moriarty didn't know him; he'd been away so long
So they climbed into the currach and the boatman heard him say
Thank God, Thank God in heaven I'll be home for Christmas day

In a little room in London, Moriartys poor abode
On a table in a hallway a message lay unread
The message said, dear Danny your poor Mother has passed away
She'll be buried in Kinsheelagh after mass on Christmas day

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