Inverbrena 1999

A review of living memories collected from people of the Strangford area. ((For the olden memories fast are flying fro 111 us Oh! that some kind hand would come And bind them in a garland e)re the present hardens And the past grows cold and dumb)).

Anon

It is with pleasure that the members of Inverbrena Local History Group bring to you their journal of 1999.

We are aware of the interest which our two previous publications created because we are still being asked for back numbers which are no longer available.

We are printing extras copies of this year's book so I hope there will . be no disappointments The work of our members cover a very wide range of subjects which I hope you will find of interest and even enlightenment.

I'm sure there are readers who would enjoy our meetings and could contribute with their memories of days gone past.

We would be pleased to have you with us.

Willie Crea (Chairman) Front Cover: Kilcliif CastleJrom a painting by WA. Green

Members

of the Local History

Brendan Sharvin Anne Ellis Mena McKeating Eamon Seed Jim and Maureen Sharvin Sheila Cultra Isobel Magee Eamonn McMullan Seamus Seed

Group

Edie Hynds Brian Fitzsimons Richard Sharvin Ronnie Buchanan Willie Crea (Chairman) Brian Denvir (Vice Chairman) Peig Denvir (Secretary) Leslie McKibben (Treasurer) Sheila Campbell (Editor) -1

Contents William Conway's Taxi

E . J. McMullan ......... ........... ....... ... ..... .... 3

Building the Aerodromes 1940

James Denvir .. ...... ... ........ ....................... 5

Building The Aerodromes 1940

George Jackson ... ...... ..... ........... ..... ........ 6

Building the Aerodromes 1940

Brian Denvir .................................. ........ 7

My memories ofJohn McCann the Cobbler

Isobel Magee .. .... ...... ... .. ....... ............. .... 9

The Story of the Mill-field

Mena McKeating .............. ... .... ........ .... 11

Sounds of Strangford

Eamon McMullan ................................ 12

Jimmy Boden

Willie Crea ................... ... .................... 13

Jerseys Blue

Lawrence Breen ............ ....................... 16

School Holidays in Kilclief

Mary Magee ........ .. ...................... ..... ... 17

The Hill of the little Pieces of Silver

Brian Fitzsimons .. ... ........................ .. ... 20

Strangford National School - 1920s and 30s

Vera McCann nee McMullan ............... 22

Murnin's Boatbuilding Workshop

Kevin MacLaverty ........... ..................... 25

Life and Leisure in Kilclief

James Denvir's Story ....... ..... .... ...... ...... 28

Where is St. Caylan's Well?

Isobel Magee ..... .. ................... ......... .... 32

The Christmas Rhymers

Leslie McKibben ... ...... .......... .. ... ...... .... 34

Duty on Christmas Island in the Pacific Ocean

Jimmy Curran ...... .... ......... ................... 35

Poems ofYesteryear

George McKibben .. ............ ............. .... 36

A Sailor's Lament

Lawrence Breen ..... ........ ... .... .. ........... .. 38

Do Ye Mind The Time?

Michael Conway .................................. 39

Acknowledgements The editor wish es to thank Ronnie Buchanan - for his invaluable advice to the inexperienced Betty McCord - for her notes and maps Damien McKee and Geraldine - of Flixx Graphics for their patience Peig Denvir - for her conscientious assistance and unfailing good humour Down County Council Community Relations Section The people of the Strangford area who told their stories for us and lent us precious photographs.

Without their generosity there could be no magazine.

2

William Conway's Taxi E.] McMullan

A

-c -chc bottom of the Chapel hill the gable end of McGreevy's house gave

shelter to men with not enough cash to go into Sharvin's, Hedley's, or Ranaghan's pubs. Sometimes with the wind from the south east, the weighbridge at Elliot's office would serve the same purpose. But when the rain came as it did often, the men would gather at William's garage where the recessed main doors gave an overhead shelter from the elements.

William was Strangford's connection to the social and night life of the rest of Lecale and beyond. His taxi was the means of transport to "the pictures" in the Grand in Downpatrick, dances in the Town hall, and the Canon's hall in Downpatrick, the Sheild hall in Ardglass, the Central in Newcastle and other dances in Crossgar, Killyleagh or Drumaness.

William was born at Legnagoppogue out the back road from Strangford. His father had a farm there and in 1895, the year ofWilliam's birth, things were hard on the Conway homestead and remained so through to the first World War. William and his brother John joined the RIC and served in the force until 1921 when a choice was given to transfer into the RUC or have a golden handshake and get out. John and William chose the latter and bought a small bus known as a taxi and launched into business transporting people from Strangford to the rail link, the BCDR in Downpatrick on a regular basis. After a short time John dissolved the partnership and returned to Legnagoppogue to run the family farm leaving William the sole owner of the business.

Always a polite and well spoken man William was also a man of many parts, a photographer, using the old "glass slide" technique, a metal worker, a mechanic and a carpenter extraordinaire. His work in wood is still to be seen in the vestry of the new church opened in 1932 and in a lovely crucifix in that same church. He used these skills also in boat building. Joe Trainor of Porta ferry had one of his punts and Miss Stewart of Isle-o-Valla another.

But his real pleasure was driving his taxi, chatting to his passengers and while they danced the night away, having his little tipple at Acton's of the Road Houses or Reavy's in Newcastle. On the empty roads travelled in those days, it did not seem significant that the driver had tipple over the eight. One night after a near miss with a couple of cyclists someone said "William you nearly hit those bicycles" - "What bicycles? I saw no bicycles" said William.

One of his customers had the habit of delaying payment for a journey saying "See you later William". But on one occasion when the usual 6/6 was requested and a ten bob note produced to pay, William drove off without giving change saying "See you later then".

William was never in a hurry home and consequently when the passengers for the return trip were ready for the road, William might just be in the middle of a wee tipple at whatever hostlery was available at such a late hour. I remember one ofWillie's passengers was doing his "courtin" in Downpatrick at the time, (late 40's to early 50's) a very hard working fellow anxious to be up and away, not only at night but early next morning.

When the craic was good nobody cared ifWiliiam was late in arriving at the dance hall.

He would always say in his quick speech patter - "SSSS alright for you fellows but I have to be up in the morning".

3

The Austin car had been modified to hold 8 passengers, 3 in the back seat, 3 facing on small seats attached to the back of the front seats and two in the front, one astride of the gear shift. The doors were in constant need of repair, for it was almost a foregone conclusion that his passenger would try the wrong door first andWilliam would habitually shout - "Other side!" The doors were held shut by an elaborate system of rubber bands cut from old inner tubes.

It must have been during the bad snow of the winter of 1947 that "Pushie" in desperation to get home to Kilclief had to forsake the old push bike and have William take him home after his work in Dickie Dougherty's shop. The snow was coming down thickly and blowing into drifts but William's customers rallied to the flag and volunteered to accompany the paying passenger on the dangerous mission. The traction was good because of the heavy load and the outward leg of the journey was completed without mishap. Even the Mount was negotiated, and the boul' Pushie delivered home safe and sound, bike and all. The lads, Des, Brendan, Dusty and Paddy thought the adventure over, having managed Cloughey brae and Isle-O' -valla. But the Clay Hollows brae turned out to be their undoing. All hands had to get out and put their shoulders to the back of the trusty old Austin and push for king and country - strain and push and strain again until the hill was surmounted and a little way was on the car. Of course the boys stood a while waiting for William to stop for them, but no,William knew ifhe stopped he'd never get her going again. On he went - past the White houses down Pigeon brae and the chapel hill and home, leaving the boys to make their own way. A long half mile it was in blizzard conditions back to Sharvin's pub where they drowned their sorrows and made memorable rhymes and songs of taxi escapades. An example follows:-

William flooded the carburettor For to make the engine hum And the boys went down to Sharvin 5 And flooded theirs with rum William died in 1977 having had a good 82 years oflife, and, although I only knew of him from these stories told to me by my older brother Desmond, I feel as ifI had experienced his personality first hand. I can still see his long slow stride, the head a little to one side as he went down to George Wallace's for his paper or wandered down the slip with his faithful Tatters for a bit of craic with his friends . A quiet, reserved, respectable and resp e cted m e mber of our small community, not to be forgotten by those privileged to have known him.

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Now let us take Will iam, take William, take William This Illan had to fi ght on a cold winter 's night Ex tracti ng his car from the snow.

That 's onc car that surely is blessed Chonls He can take you to places, like Downpatrick races, Belfast, if the going's not hard And without any troubling he ' ll take you to Dublin And home by the bank s of Ki llard Chorus

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" It 's as safe as a house", he' ll insist

A song to the tune of a favourite at the time was thus penned:

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Building the Aerodromes 1940 James Denvir ...... as told to Peig Denvir ORK] 1 ~ as ajoiner at 5/ - per week an announcement by the Air Ministry in 1942 changed my life. For I got a job on the aerodrome at Bishopscourt with an English firm called Cryer from Liverpool and was now earning good money. We cycled to our work 8.15 till 5.30 each day and a half day on Saturday.

My job was mainly doing the woodwork on the new buildings on the mess and on the airmen's accommodation at Ballyhornan, Ringawoody and Seahornan. I also roofed the cinema as I recall.

Needless to say with so many people working together spirits ran high at times and plenty of pranks were played on each other. I remember while working in Flying control installing the plotting desk, the commander in charge came to inspect the finished job. He gave us great praise which maybe we were not accustomed to. However when he had gone, as I thought, I said "That oul' boy's not as bad as he looks" and a whole lot more! The young officer couldn't get me to shut up as the con1.mander was just outside the door and heard every word I said. What a laugh we had later! One day the electricians and joiners were finalising and testing equipment. We told this rather naive fellow to try out the amplifier by announcing that Hitler was invading. He switched on and the announcement was heard all over the aerodrome. The special police came running from different directions to catch the culprit!

Mary Hanna worked in Cryer's office. I used to tease Mary to make us tea when Mr Cryer was away but one day Mary insisted the 'boss' was next door. Thinking it was an excuse I stilled teased her and lifted her up on the desk when Mr Cryer, possibly hearing the carry on, opened the hatch from his office, put his head through and said "Miss Hanna, when Mr Denvir has finished with you, I have some work for you". Poor Mary was so embarrassed she didn't know where to look and I didn't feel too good either!

We enjoyed our time in Bishopscourt. We had passes to the cinema and got to see some very up-to-date films. There .were also shows by Bill Maynard,Jackie Harte and L. Farr who became household names in later years. Nobody seemed to work but the sheer numbers, I suppose got it finished.

I then stayed on for three years as a maintenance worker and remember the excitement when the first plane, a spitfire landed. I was now married to Kay and we lived a few yards from myoId home. Later I branched out to work for myself for the rest of my life, but I like to recall those exciting days at Bishopscourt.

We worked hard but I remember best the fun, craic and friendship that lightened the day's labour.

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5

Building The Aerodromes 1940 George Jackson ...... as told to Peig Denvir

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h eN 1 went to work at the aerodrome at Bishopscourt there were 10 ton

scrapers working at the No. 1 runway which was 1775 yards long and was later extended.

Our first job was putting down metal skids which was a very skilled job. Tony King was one of my co-workers. Paddy Grant did the pegging.

The engineers marked out the levels of the runway and the skids had to be put down accurately and securely. The cement was then put between these by the dumper and then tempered; two men at either side. This was very hard work I remember, and the men were given a penny more per hour while on this job. The ganger could do this at his discretion if he thought the worker was worth it. Thick felt about 8" deep was placed between the bays at 18 ft intervals to allow for expansion.

It so happened at one point that the graders left the ground too high and we couldn't get our depth . I contacted the foreman "Scottie", who incidentally played for Stenhouse Muir, to expla~n our difficulties .

JJ!Rir.C'N.lU.TB 1.6 H e said to me "You're the type of man we're • Refonnce: looking for" ancl I thought I was for the boot!

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Instead I was promoted to ganger in charge Site ... 21ah07'o Court.

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'- '~ of30 men to fenc e the property line, all done with barbed wire. At times we had a run-in : :reCCln,":.aJ.n l~ :n ~ oo.""2'a.~ip io with the local farmers in case we were is t.ru. ot 1l.l"dot4 Otrlcb" will cIIoll with you encroaching on their land. Brian Denvir recently told me he remembers well when I .. ~_'_~ ~blocked him out. He had a short run on his rn mmal e.ericul tun\l Ic.Q" bicycle through Magee's of the Hill and across ,t, to the office but then he had to go round by Bishopscourt and Dunsford to his work. He still hasn't forgiven me! .j Draining was very important and lots ofpipes were laid. Ourjob then was covering these with flat stones some of which came A notice of requisition of land 1942 from the Griddle mountain, Ballyalton hedges, Castleward and several local quarries. Davidson was one of the many lorries who carted these stones.

Another job I was involved in was concreting the hard standings where the planes were tied down by rings cemented into the ground. These were located away from the runways and camouflaged.

That work completed we were next off to work on the lighting system for the whole airfield. While digging holes on Guns Island for lead-ins a storm blew up and we were marooned on the island. The Gills ferried us over and back while we were on this project.

We could never say we were bored with the variety ofjobs we worked on and the pay was good while the emergency lasted.

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Building the Aerodromes 1940 Brian Denvir Le~L St. Patrick's High School in 1940 and at that time the outbreak of the war

1

created jobs and money. It was tempting to go and get a job and have a pound or two in your pocket, as further education had to be paid for and the former seemed the better option.

Kirkistown My cousin,James Gannon who worked at Kirkistown airfield told me they were looking for staff for the office. I went over and got a job right away. My neighbours Tommy Reid, Willie Kerr and Dick Mullan also worked on the airfield. We cycled down to Strangford for the 8 o'clock ferry which was usually filled, so our bicycles were tied to the mast at the front of the boat for safety. We then cycled up to Kirkistown for 8.30.

The office was a nissan hut when I started. I enjoyed the work as I was not confined to the office, but went out on the site and was very interested in w hat was gomg on.

Things were very primitive at first for everything was done w ith picks, horses and carts. Gradually the big machinery arrived such as earthmovers, bulldozers and navvies .

I particularly remember the bulldozer coming off the low loader driven by a big athletic man with white hair w hom we called "Snowy" . He could manoeuvre that machine in and out of the most awkward places which to us was amazing. We had never seen such machinery on the farm in those days, nothing more than the wee grey Massey Ferguson, I suppose!

Naturally all this equipment had to be serviced so there was a mechanic shop on site. Ten men maintained the machinery, two of them came from England and were well-qualified mechanics. The rest were local and had lots to learn. Gordy Quinn was one of these two key-men and w h en the locals found themselves in a quandary wo uld call on Gordy who may have been very busy. Gordy would shout "Run for the book, boys! run for the book! "

Cranfield When Kirkistown finished up we were sent on to Cranfield near Kilkeel. James Gannon was already there and married, so his brother Gerard, Tommy R eid and I stayed w ith them.

Cranfield was a beautiful place close to a beach about a mile long. It was sad to see such lovely fertile land w hich could have yielded good crops, being covered in concrete but it was wartime and things had to go on.

There were about 800 men already on the site, but when the new agent Mr Strong arrived, he came into the office and said he

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A notice of requisition of land 1942 7

r wanted half these men paid off because the job was not yet ready for so many workers.

He guaranteed to re-employ them shortly when the site would be opened up.

The heavy machinery soon arrived; two or three navvies, mixers, dumpers etc.

Gradually over a few weeks instead of clearing a bit of fence with pick and shovels, horses and carts, there were fences disappearing all over the place and now pipes were to be laid for drainage. True to his word Mr Strong re-employed the men who were laid off.

Homesteads which had to be demolished to give way to the airfield were ideal for army units to train with explosives. When in practice red flags were hoisted to give warning of danger and the gangers were notified to alert their men to stay clear. This was frightening for me as I had no official warning and had to look out for the red flags myself. Rather than risk missing the flags I kept a wide berth and took the long detours to other sections of the site - I didn't fancy taking chances!

Naturally with so many working on the airfield there were friendships made and lots of funny incidents to recall and talk about in later years.

One I remember is about my cousin Gerard who worked as a greaser to brother James who drove a digger. Gerard found it very hard to get up in the mornings while his brother was very prompt and on the job on time. We were all on the site working away when about 10 o'clock Gerard came trailing along, lunch box under his arm.

Suddenly he spied the foreman coming in his direction whereupon Gerard dropped the lunch box, lifted a plank, put it over his shoulder, bid the foreman good-day. and walked on. When the foreman was out of site he retrieved his lunch-box and headed off to his work - not bad thinking for a sleepy head!

Bishopscourt One Friday evening Mr Strong came into the office and asked if anyone knew where Bishopscourt was. I told him it was near my home. "We have a few men starting on Monday and we need someone to hold the fort meantime until we get down there" he said. The few men were my neighbours;Joe Teggart,Willie Hamill (Ardglass), Pat Holland and George Jackson among them. I was delighted, needless to say. When I arrived on Monday morning they had a horse and cart and were lifting stones from a ditch and laying them out on the intended runaway. The office was a room in Crea's house at first and from there we moved into a nissan hut.

As the work in Cranfield finished off, the machinery began to transfer to Bishopscourt and even more sophisticated machinery arrived. There was a massive electric mixer driven by a dynamo and was filled by a moor shovel similar to a front loader.

Bishopscourt followed the same pattern as the others but progressed much quicker due to all this advanced equipment. The days of the horse and cart and the wheelbarrow were no more!

All this is but a distant memory now and on occasions when we'd bump into our contemporaries, the recall of those exciting days makes for great conversation, when the pace of life and progress left rural life changed forever.

8

My memories of John McCann the Cobbler Isobel Magee Ne eve lNC:; I walked around the Well field in Carrif opposite Can'iflane on the Drumroe road - the Glebe road as it is known now. As I watched the sheep graze, I noticed that one of them had turned up a lovely piece of blue and white delph out of the grass. I picked it up, and saw it was a broken piece of a blue and white bowl which used to adorn the old Irish pine dressers of 1920-1930. I started thinking how many young people of this generation knew that once a thatched cottage stood here along the road about 20 yards from the entrance to Carriflane. Nothing remains now only a low stone wall which was the front of the cottage and now is part of the field fence, covered with briar and elderberry bushes.

I remember as a young girl coming with my father either on the bar of his bicycle or sitting on a seat in the farm cart watching the horse's ears as he plodded along. Our journey was to this little cottage where John McCann the cobbler worked mending shoes and boots for the people of the countryside.

My father would leave me here with John while he fixed fences or attended to the stock nearby. I can recall in my lTlemory the white-washed walls inside and outside, the thatched roof, one chimney and the small windows. In the kitchen where I worked there was one. There were two others, one in the front and one in the back bedroom.

There were just the two apartments and a small closet off the room. Outside, two small houses were attached to the upper gable. One was where John kept his few hens which supplied him with eggs. They were lovely marley hens, Bard Rock and a Rhode-IsleRed rooster. The eggs were much sought after for hatching. Many a farmyard then had a hen and a clutch of chicks running around.

At the back of the house was a garden where John grew his potatoes and vegetables.

The garden was triangular in shape running down to a point. Behind the hedge there was a well known to the older people then as St. Caylan's well. This is why the field is known as the Well field. As you went into John's house, at the door grew a bush of southern wood which had a lovely smell when crushed with the fingers.

Through the door on the left hand side between the room door and back door of the kitchen stood a fine dresser with willow pattern plates, blue and white bowls, and mugs with blue and white rings around them. Next to the dresser was the can stone for the buckets of water. A can stone is a stone sitting on two upright stones, this kept the water cool.

On the side wall beside the back door hung the wag-at-the-wall clock with weights sinking towards the floor, the pendulum swinging tick-tock. I spent a lot of time watching for those weights to hit the earthen floor, but they never did.

The table and roped chairs sat at the back wall. The fire place had an open fire with crook and hangings of varying lengths to suit the metal kettle and the three legged pots. The crook could be swung out towards the hearth to lift the lid and stir the contents.

On the hobs at each side of the fire sat a tin tea-drawer or teapot and maybe a saucepan. Two small square holes were in the side wall of the fireplace. One usually had the tea-caddy. The otherwas supposed to hold the box with the title deeds of the farm.

I don't think that this was always true, but it was an old Irish custom, as the deeds of a house or farm was one of the most precious things one had then. In the corner on the

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9

left of the fire John kept his supply of coals which were just emptied on the earthen floor. Big shiny lumps had to be broken up to a size that was handy to put on the fire.

John's workplace was to the right of the fire. He had his work bench opposite the window with his back to the fire, surrounded by boots and shoes and pieces of leather and of course his last and the tools of his trade. On the side of the fireplace hung a calendar with a photo of a very large steam engine called the Burlington Zephyr. On the wall by the window he had a small paraffin lamp with a reflector on the back, "that was the only light to work with after dark", he said.

The roof inside showed the bare cupples, and the scraws that held the thatch were bare except for the network oflathes. Some were thick branches cut from a tree, which held the roof firm.

John always had a day off in the week, to go to Portaferry for his leather, nails, sparables, hobbles and toe plates. He usually walked to Strangford with the aid of a walking stick. The boats that crossed the ferry then were rowed by McDonnell and Quayle. He brought his wares back to Strangford and someone usually carried them up for him.

That was all in one day.

I remember he also had another calendar which took my eye. It was of an old man standing looking over the half-leaf door of his house. This was Will's Billy (William Curran of Sheep land).

I loved to watch John as he put the sole of the worn boot down on the piece of leather and cut out the shape with his sharp knife, he often sharpened this knife on a strap hanging from the wall. He levelled up the boot and put on the cut sole.

Working boots that the men wore, usually had rows of sparables down the centre of the sole and sparables on the outside of the sole with toe pieces on the toe and hobbles on the heels. He also had the fittings for wooden clogs though they were few.

It took strong boots with a grip for heavy work and to follow the horses in the plough.

Most of all I loved to watch John measure out the length of hemp. I think it was three or four strands. He rolled the strands together with the heel of his hand on his knee on his leather apron.

Then came the 'bristles' which were rolled with the stranded ends into the hemp.

These bristles came off the back of the wild boar and were from Mrica mostly. Then came the waxing of the hemp. With the plug of wax in the centre of the hand, the hemp was drawn through the wax, until the hemp was stiff enough to sew with. The boot or shoe had a thinner piece ofleather used for patching. The awl punched the hole and the waxed hemp was drawn through. The bristle acting as a needle one up one down through the same hole, was pulled tight to keep the patch ofleather secure. It was just like what the sewing machine needle would do.

Then some black powder which had been mixed with oil and kept in a crockery jar was put on with a brush on the side of the sole. The black boots got this the brown boots did not get any. They were left to mellow with time.

The wax and leathers always had a sweet smell. As I sat there watching him, he used to put small nails in his mouth and take them out one by one as he nailed them to the soles. I kept quiet wondering would he swallow them ifhe spoke. So I just sat with my hands under my knees swinging my feet, as the rope chairs were prickly on the legs.

I think John took pity on me for he would get up and search through some papers and come back with American comics. He had friends in America who used to write to him and send papers such as the New York Times. Some of these papers had comics in 10

them. The calendar I mentioned earlier with the train came from America. He gave me the comics to keep. I would take them home for there was often a cut-out model of a doll.

My mother would cut the doll out for me and stick it onto cardboard. I think the name of the doll was Jane. To dress the doll there were dresses to cut out, little tabs were on the paper dress which folded back around the model. I often could not wait for mother to cut these out so I attempted myself and of course cut the tabs off too! My mother had to make new tabs.

Well all these happy memories were long ago. John's kindly soul has gone to rest.

The stones of the cottage were taken away to repair a breach in the wall at the Quarry hill in Strangford. So as you pass by that way think of where they came from and the little cottage that once stood near Carrif lane.

The piece of blue delph! I will leave it where I found it. Someone else may pick it up and think of this story ofJohn McCann the cobbler.

The Story of the Mill-field Rock Mena McKeating

L

he ~ACD1Ne in Ireland was caused by a blight which destroyed the potato

. crop. This happened year after year until it was found that a simple solution of blue stone, sprayed over the leaves of the potatoes prevented the blight from going down the stems and rotting the tubers. The west of Ireland was the most affected because they depended on potatoes for food.

In this part of Co. Down, sometimes called 'The garden of Le cale' , the potato crop failed but other crops flourished and there was always good grass for farm animals. I was shocked to learn that during the f~mine years cargo ships left Strangford harbour laden with grain, while in the west of Ireland people died from hunger. Times were hard for the poor here but no one died from hunger except it is said for one greedy miller.

The Mill-field lies off the Drumroe road sloping down towards the Cargagh river.

A wall once stood here and the miller's house was in the hill field opposite Cargagh chapel. The story goes - He gathered all the grain from around the district, ground it into meal and sold it for gold. He even sold his last stone of meal and died from hunger without telling anyone where he had his crock of gold. Many people searched for it but failed, even in the 1950s when the river was widened and cleaned, and Legnagoppoge bog was drained, nothing was found. During the famine years the Mill-field was owned

by Bernard Murray of Drumroe, but none of the Murrays were millers. Did the miller ever exist?

I believe it was just another story told around the fireside on a long winter evening, but if it is true, does the crock of gold still lie buried along the Cargagh river?

11

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Sounds of Strangford Eamon McMullan I remember well the sounds of Strangford from those happy childhood years And value all the pleasant memories they still bring to my ears.

Of the Corn-mill down at Elliots with it's starting rising whine Where they crushed the corn by hundred weight - a bagfor four and nine.

And the over-loaded ferry boats taking men from Kirkistown From Drumroe, Kilcliif and Saul and the ancient town of Down.

The boats with single cylinders primed with petrol, run on oil Put-putted with a bubbling sound cf water on the boil.

Then swallows on a bright June morn cried out their sharp, shrill calls As they flew between the loft and house they echoed off the walls.

And in the evenings as dusk settled and night began to fa ll The crows would nightly congregate and fill the evening with their call.

And as they travelled to and fro between the Avenue and Cooks I would wonder tl) myself were they jackdaws, crows or rooks?

Oh well do I remember standing outside Whoriskey's door Seeing the 'Aurora ' - a thing I ne're did see bifore.

The sky lit up in pillars of brilliant coloured lights Moving, changing, merging.

I was frightened by the sight, For adults standing round as the great light show unfurled Said "No doubt about it it's the ending cf the world)).

McMullan family - Castle Street, Strangford

12

.

Jimmy Boden Willie Crea

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he lCDpReSS10 I that an individual has made on his friends and neighbours can very often be measured by the length of time that memory lingers on. This can surely be said about Jimmy Boden, who is still remembered with affection and happiness in Strangford some forty years after h e was laid to rest in Ballyculter churchyard.

Physically he was a big man with a loud voice and most notable of all he had a laugh never since equalled for volume, longevity, and wholeheartedness. A native of Loughkeelan, in his young days he had been a riveter in Harland and Wolf and had worked on the Titanic, of which he was very proud. He had been to sea for a number of years on coastal boats plying round the British Isles. He was a bachelor, living very frugally in an old house, no better than a shack, in Kilclief.

Jimmy's company was always in great demand because of his ready wit, his great appreciation of his own humour and other people's as well. So when Jimmy entered a pub he was always given a 'starter' to get him warmed up. This was a good investment on the part of the proprietor for Jimmy's presence always attracted more customers.

The popular pub in Strangford square had an unequalled expert in story telling; the proprietor, Senan Sharvin, known to everyone as Siney.

I can recall one regatta afternoon, some sixty years ago, having cycled to Strangford with my uncle George, standing in Castle street enjoying Gertie Dougherty's ice cream when we heard an explosion oflaughter coming from Sharvin's bar; Siney was in action, and way above the roar of hilarity was this loud noise which reminded me of a horse 'neighering'; only it lasted l!luch longer.

I looked at George in wonder and asked "What's that noise"?

"That's not a noise" said George, "That's Jimmy Boden laughing".

I can still hear it ringing round the square. Although Jimmy had a great fund of wit, he is remembered for his hilarious reaction to a good story. His company laughed at the stories to a certain extent but Jimmy's infectious thunderous 'neighering' was the real source of mirth.

After one particular evening's entertainment in Siney's bar Jimn1y prepared to go out into the winter's night and walk home to Kilclief. He put on his heavy overcoat and muiller, gathered up his week-end provisions; - his tea, sugar, bread and his treat, sausages from Johnny McKeown's butcher's shop. He pushed all down the front of his overcoat, tightened the belt to prevent them falling down, got his stick and cap and started out into the darkness.

Going from the bright lights of the pub into the unlit street with his head just that little bit 'fuzzed', he turned right instead ofleft and staggered down to the slip where he toppled over the edge into the water. The tide was out and fortunately for Jimmy, the water was shallow, but nevertheless he got quite a heavy fall.

It was a considerable time before somebody heard him groaning in the water, ran back to the pub and raised the alarm. Everyone came out and he was hauled out of the water while someone ran up to the barracks to phone an ambulance. As he lay on the slip, semi conscious, cold and wet, someone advised "get that old wet coat off him" , which they proceeded to do. Harry Swail just arrived, and curiosity getting the better of him, elbowed his way to the front just in time to see in the dim light, the sausages 13

emerge through the sodden paper.

He recoiled in horror shouting.

"Button him up quick boys his guts are coming out!"

The ambulance had now arrived and offhe went to the Downe Infirmary. It was Jimmy's first time in hospital and he lay in the warm bed in the crisp white sheets, still dazed, and staring up at the fluorescent lights. White walls and the smell of chloroform surrounded him. Two nurses stood at the foot of the bed in blue and white uniforms and three corned hats, and Jimmy thought he must be in another world. A doctor in a white coat completed the illusion.

A nurse was asking his name, where he lived, and most important of all, his occupation.

"Me occupation?",Jimrny looked blank.

"Yes, what did you work at, what did you do for a living?"

"What did ah do?"

"Oh, a riveter," he said. "When ah wus on earth!".

Jimrny quickly recovered and returned to his house in Kilclief, visiting his many friends in the pubs in the square until his last visit in 1956.

Paddy Corrigan remembers the day he tookJimrny to see "Betty Grable's Million Dollar Legs" This was the name of a picture showing in the Grand cinema in Downpatrick in the early thirties and it had generated a lot of interest because of its title and also because it was considered to be on the borderline of decency. This was good publicity as was intended, and it had the desired effect of tickling the fancies of all the young bloods in the country; (and maybe the not so young?)

Two 'purty' fellows in Strangford, certainly in the young blood category, decided that they must see this picture. To complete their evening's entertainment they would have to get Jimrny Boden to go as well.

Paddy Corrigan and Jack Sharvin knew that they had a problem, for Jimrny had never been to the pictures and never would go. He had only one important interest in life and that was boats and the sea. Because he had been a riveter at the building of the Titanic and very proud of it, they told him there was a great picture on about the Titanic. It worked and he consented to go.

This now presented another problem; how to get him to Downpatrick?

Jack Sharvin's father had a van in the yard beside his house. It would do the job.

The pair of boys quietly pushed the van out of the yard onto the road and down to the slip, where they started it and drove it up to the square, stopped, got Jimmy into the back and off they went to the Grand. Siney was unaware that his van had been borrowed.

Parking in Downpatrick in the thirties was no problem, so they stopped in Market St. opposite the Grand, got Jimrny out, brought him into the 'Stag's Head' and bought him a glass of whiskey.

Now that he was suitably primed they entered the cinema and bought three tickets for the balcony. Jimrny, of course, had a great "how do ye do?" for the girl in the kiosk.

They went upstairs and with some difficulty got him into his seat for he was a big man with a heavy overcoat, muffier and a heavy stick.

14

The show started w ith the British Gaumont news and it showedWinston C hurchill launching a ship. Jimmy thought this was a prelude to the Titanic and warmed by the glass of w hiskey got quite worked up.

Now Jimmy, unfamiliar with the rule of silence in a cinema, began to give a commentary on what he saw in his usual loud voice.

"That's a great man that Churchill" booms Boden in a voice that completely drowned the commentator, "a great man; but he 's like a boy that could shift a bottle or two". So pleased was he with his remarks that he roared out three or four huge guffaws that echoed round the cinema.

He was prepared to continue his commentary but the usher Izzy Waterman, was now on the scene, pinpointed the three with his torch, and told them to get out. The proprietor, Tommy Breen, was hovering in the background and out they had to go.

It was just as big a j ob getting Jimmy out of his seat as it was getting him into it for the row was by this time full of people. His cap was no problem for he had never taken it off, but the overcoat and stick got caught up on everyone as he struggled past.

At the end of the row there was a woman, handkerchief in hand, feeble with laughter; as Jimmy haughelled past her, tramping on her toes, he noticed the tears on her cheeks. He stopped and addressed her. " Me good woman, is this the first time you 've been to sea? If so hold tight to the taffrail and put your trust in the Lord!".

By now the show was stopped, all lights were on and everyone had turned round and was staring up at the gallery. Jimmy could see that he had an audience. He was prepared to be friendly and addressed them by way of explanation.

"Hups by the holy Jee", roared Bowden, "we've been keel hauled in port". But Izzy Waterman was having no more and he pushed him into the foyer followed meekly

by Paddy Corrigan and Jack Sharvin.

Now to be "keel hauled" was a form of punishment inflicted by the crew on a fellow member for an infringement of ship 's rules, such as drinking som eone else's bottle of w hiskey or minor pilfering. A rope was tied round the offender; he was dumped overboard, hauled underneath the ship to the other side and hauled on board again.

H ence "keel hauled". It doesn 't seem very pleasant and of course could only be carried out in port.

On the way out Jimmy saw the girl in the kiosk, and now considering her an acquaintance went over and commented.

"Be Jasus" h e said, "be Jasus that didn't last long".

T he girl, fearful that this burly man might become boisterous and having had a nod from Tommy Breen, quickly refunded their money. Izzy Waterman lost no time in pushing them outside and closing the door. Paddy Corrigan said that the girl was so frightened that she gave them more money back than what they had originally paid.

The party came back to Strangford, left Jimmy up to his 'house' in Kilclief, and slipping back to the square, quietly parked the van in Siney's yard. Nobody wo uld ever know.

Life is not as simple as that for next morningTommy Breen rang up Siney, wanting to know w ho the two boys were who had brought Boden to his cinema. It didn't take Siney long, by the description, to pick out the two culprits. H e knew w ho had access to the van and he thought he had heard a noise in the yard the previous evening. So when Paddy was crossing the square the next day Siney came to the door of his office and wagged him over. " H eavens" said Paddy ''I'm in for it now, he has found out, he'll be in a temper and I'll get a clout on the ear or a kick on the backside or both" .

15

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Paddy went into the office anticipating Siney's wrath. He was very annoyed at them taking the van without his permission but his anger had been subdued by Tommy Breen's description of the previous evening's events in the cinema and he was still amused at what had taken place. His only complaint was that they hadn't told him about it in the first place for he would have liked to have been there.

I suppose the outing must be considered a failure for the 'purty' boys hadn't seen Betty Grable's legs and Jimmy Boden hadn't seen the Titanic, but the patrons in the Grand had a little extra entertainment.

Jerseys Blue Lawrence Breen You may sing of your bold aviators Of their daring flights you may tell When they lift to cross the Atlantic As you waved them adieu and farewe ll.

Of kings, princes and generals And soldiers who fell in the war, And of those who returned from the conflict With many a wound and a scar.

But for bravery and daring in danger I'm sure you all will agree They don't live in palace of mansion But in humble cots by the sea.

16

School Holidays in Kilclief Mary Magee ...... as told to Peig Denvir

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CDucheR was born and reared in Kilclief. I was born and reared in Newcastle. Why Newcastle you may ask? She was Nanny to a solicitor's family in Downpatrick and when they went to Newcastle on holiday she was taken with them.

There she met my father, Thomas Rafferty and after marriage they started a guest house.

When the school holidays came and I was old enough, I was sent to Kilclief to an uncle and aunt; Elizabeth and Richard Hanna. This pleased me as I knew Kilclief school did not close until the harvest started and I might be allowed to accompany them to school. This I did. I remember standing at the gate of the cottage waiting for other children to come up the road. These were Sharvin boys from 'The Mount'.

We all dandered up the road until we almost reached Glebe house. Here we took a short cut to the school.

We climbed a ditch into a sparkling golden cornfield and walked along the path taking care not to tread on the crop.

I take it my cousins Joe, Patrick, the twins and Sara Hanna asked permission for me to go in with them and soon I was seated)n a small desk and given ~

Mary with her husband the late Jack Magee a slate and crayon.

I always managed to be there for the school outing; - a one day trip. A horse drawn brake, driven by Barney Magee came to the school. We all clImbed in and were taken off to the banks of Killard where we ate our buns, drank our lemonade, played games and ran races on the sand. The outing over, the driver left us back home after an exciting day.

Mter school I was sometimes sent to the shop for messages. A shop I have still vividly in my mind was owned byWmJohn Buchanan. The entrance door was into the kitchen with a beautiful red tiled floor, a black-leaded shining range and a matching paraffin oil tank in the corner. Two steps down into the darker room was a counter laden with large unpapered baker's loaves and a bacon slicer. Behind the counter were the usual bits and pieces bought in a grocer's shop.

On the way down to the shop, on the right hand side was a farmhouse occupied by a family called Coulter. They set aside one of their rooms for a post office. The mail came up from Strangford and a local person delivered the letters and parcels close by.

They also sold stamps, postal orders and other small items. This all stopped when the Coulters moved to the other side of the road. The post office was then occupied by a family called Denvir.

My aunt had a beautiful flower garden at her cottage. On Saturday mornings she pulled a large bunch of flowers for the altar in Kilclief church. I was taken with her to bring the water from the parochail house to fill the vases. On the way into the church there was a headstone which fascinated me - it read "Dr Patrick Mary Moore". Later I

17

learned he was the grandfather of the present Dr Paddy Moore but I don't know if he added Mary to his name. It is strange, while reminiscing how certain incidents stay in one's memory!

My holidays over I had to return home to Newcastle for the re-opening of the school. I looked forward to this so that I could tell my teacher all the things I had done during my holidays in Kilclief. She was very interested for, as she told me her first job coming out of the training college as a teacher was in Ballyculter school. Her name was Mary Alice Doran. I was very fond of my teacher, maybe because she always put my hand-writing on the wall.

It was now time for my mother to get a holiday. She visited her sister and brotherin-law, Sara and Willie Fitzsimons in Ballynagarrick for a week's card-playing in the various neighbours' houses. Forty-five, seemed to be the most popular game played.

They also discussed their reading for the winter, the lending and swapping of books.

The most talked of book was 'Knocknagow' or 'The Homes of Tipperary' by Charles Kickham and the most discussed character in the book was Matt the Thresher. Not having read that particular book I can't tell you about Matt the Thresher but he must have been some character!

In later years I was an avid reader myself and can remember being very excited when one of my cousins said to me ''I'm after having a great long chat with a renowned writer Michael McLaverty who has come to live in our area 'along the shore from Kilclief castle". I came to know him and his wife as time went by and count them among my friends.

But time moves on and things have changed at the cottage for my uncle and aunt have gone to their reward, so I then stayed with my aunt in Ballynagarrick. I enjoyed the lovely farm-house and can still see the large open grate with the swing-out crook, the ark at the side of the fire where the flour, oatmeal and wheatm.eal were kept. My aunt told me that some people bleached the flour bags and sewed them together as sheets.

Then she had the milk-room; a little room where the milk was prepared in crocks for churning, a beautiful dresser with old willow pattern plates. Most interesting of all was the half-door which looked out on beautiful green fields in front of the house. This is where the cattle and calves grazed. I remember helping my aunt to carry the milk down for the calves and the minute they heard the gate rattle they all rushed towards her.

She then drove the cows out on to the lane and the lines of a little poem I once knew CatTle to my mind: "Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass She turned them into the river lane" and this is exactly what happened, for there was a stream at the far end of the lane.

Brian Denvir tells me it is still there. The cows then were driven up to the byre for milking - no machines in those days. All was done by hand, and water was carried from the pump in John Fitzsimon's garden.

Charlie McGrady, the baker came from Downpatrick, or as he always referred to as "over the bridge" a couple of days in the week on his horse-drawn vehicle. He stopped at the end of the lane and blew his whistle. All would shout "There's the baker!"

Someone ran down to meet him. He brought the paper and any important medicines from the chemist.

I was now able to ride the bicycle and I was sent down to Strangford for the messages. An order might be for a pound of tomatoes. Willie John Sharvin, who ran the shop said to me "Take these tomatoes home to your aunt, the like of which she never 18

tasted for they were grown in Cariff". I dutifully gave the message and my aunt smiled!

Later I became a pupil-teacher under the guidance of the St. Louis order. And when I qualified as a teacher my first job was in Portaferry. I travelled by train from Newcastle to Downpatrick and was met by a Sharvin bus. The conductor was Johnny Curran and on my first day when we arrived in Strangford he ushered me over to George McDonnell's little one engined boat. I was the only passenger and was received graciously. He explained that on a rough day there would be two boat-men, so any morning when I saw two boat-men I started to say my prayers! On a very bad day they looked for the gap in the currents and of course everyone knew how treacherous these could be. Going through the gap we looked up and saw the waves above our heads. It was very frightening.

I eventually took a teaching post in the technical school in Downpatrick were I taught pupils from Kilclief and Strangford and kept a special interest in their progress over the years. Among them were Eileen Magee, the McConville girls and many others.

I was very proud of them all for in some way I felt I had a claim on them.

To this day I still love to reminisce about those happy days in Kilclief which I regard as my second home.

19

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The hill of the little pieces of silver Tulach-na-h-airigidin

Brian Fitzsimons When lead and silver were mined at Tullyratty.

NLhe late 1820s there were at least 14lead mines working in the east of Co. Down, from Conlig to Dundrum. One such mine was located in the townland ofTullyratty on the farm of one Thomas Smith. It was first opened in 1827 and the shaft reached a depth of 102 feet. There were several horizontal drifts, which are veins of ore.

The mine had both lead and silver, but the silver content was small at 10 oz. - 1 lb of silver to 1 ton oflead. 30 tons of ore were extracted fi'om the mine and were sold in Liverpool. It was assayed both there and in London to have between 75% and 80% lead content.

The ore would have been shipped from Strangford as the proprietor of the mine was the Right Hon. Lord de Ros of Old Court who also owned Strangford harbour.

It was said that one cargo of ore sank at the bar mouth of Strangford lough.

Whether this happened in 1830 when work stopped, to be resumed in 1842, is now uncertain.

The mine was working again in 1853 however and this is substantiated by the registration of two children baptised at Christ Church in Ballyculter. A daughter Mary Anne born 11th March 1853 to Nancy and Alexander Hershen a miner, and a daughter Elizabeth born 18th March 1853 to Grace and John Patton labourer at the lead mine in Tullyratty.

I have no idea when the workings ceased but my great uncle Felix Rogan born 1872 from Ballintlieve, who often visited Johnny Lawson at Tullyratty, told Richard Sharvin, who is the present owner of the farm where the mine is located, that he remembered the shaft being filled in. The iron ladder in the shaft which was made by a blacksmith was too heavy to be removed and so it was buried.

Flooding in the shaft was a problem but as the land there is elevated it was proposed that a horizontal shaft be dug to drain the mine to Cromie's Bog near Carlin but it was probably too expensive.

The entrance to the mine and the horse walk are in a field called the Mine park which is at the rear of Richard Sharvin's farm yard. The horse walk was where one or two horses were harnessed to a horizontal pole and they walked round in a circle. The pole turned machinery which was used to pump water from the shaft or to winch the ore to the surface.

The remains of the store house, in whicn the tools and equipment were kept, are still visible.

The powder house in which the explosives for blasting were stored is situated high

1

20

on the north side of Slieve Triplog at a safe distance from the mine shaft. It is completely constructed of stone with a corbelled roof, and when inspected in November 1998, during a very wet spell, the walls and floor were completely dry.

The spoil from the mine may have been dumped at Buttony beside the stream that forms the border b etween Tullyratty and Ballintlieve. When the ground was cleared about two years ago a large amount of broken stone was found there.

Lead and silver traces can still be found in rocks and stones around Tullyratty to this day.

Some years ago, when excavations were being dug for the building of a shed in Richard Sharvin's yard, I remember noticing the rock that was removed had a high quantity of lead in it. I doubt if the Tullyratty mine will ever be worked again, but who knows?

The powder house on Slieve Triplog

I am indebted to Richard Sharvin jar injormation he supplied jar this article.

21

Strangford National School 19205 and 305 Vera McCann nee McMu llan

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Quarry Hill, w hich incidentally is a hill no longer. Many years ago it was excavated to facilitate horse drawn vehicles which found the hill too steep. As a result of this quarrying the hill got its name.

Excavation and renovation work at the school raised it about 8 feet above the road, so that it matched in height a row of houses on the opposite side of the street locally known then, as the " cut". The notable personalities living in the "cut" were Mrs Laverty who had a wee shop selling gob stops, silver mines and liquorice laces, Mr Galloway and his daughter Ethel. He had been on the expedition with Stanley, in search of Livingstone I presume.

On our way to school we had to negotiate a passage past the throughother home of an old lady, and her wicked wee dog which frequently bit some of us. We were therefore not all that sorry when one day a neighbour decided he would give her The late Vera McCann (nee 'Ely' McMullan) a wash with soft soap down in the tide. He photographed in the 1930's. had been a late convert to hygiene himself and had only just finished washing his goat when he was inspired to give the lady a spring clean as well. However she was rescued and the poor man was taken away to the asylum in Downpatrick and I don't think ever released.

Further up t~e road was Johnny Dougherty's field which was the venue for DuffY's Circus annual visit and for other travelling shows featuring " Maria Martin and the Red Barn Mystery" plus other lurid offerings. This field is now the site of the new school.

Finally we came to the school itself. Strangford National School, eight steps up from the road with its tree lined playground was surrounded by a four foot wall covered with valerian and dropping down to the road 12 feet below.

It was here on one memorable occasion a stag came through the playground from the Avenue. He jumped the wall which he thought was low but discovered too late that it wasn't. We watched, horrified at his probable death or injury but he galloped off, out towards the Black Causeway and into Castleward bay where he got caught in the race of the tide and was saved by some boat men, brought ashore and lodged in Sharvin's byre.

We all went to see him drenched, bedraggled and terrified with his green eyes staring at us.

22

The toilets, or "closets" as we knew them were situated at the bottom of the Master's garden. They consisted of boards about five foot long and two foot wide,placed on low walls and with three holes, small, medium and large, so we could accommodate our girths comfortably. Toilet paper was squares of newspaper threaded in one corner with string.

The school itself was managed by Lady Una Ross and serviced by two teachers MasterThomas Noonan and Miss Alice O'Driscoll. It was two-roomed and furnished throughout mainly with seven seater desks complete with ink-wells and benches. The school was integrated with the master looking after the religion of the protestants and the mistress of the catholics. Most of the children did not know which was which. For a while I personally thought that protestants were boys and catholics were girls.

Unfortunately I know the difference now - between the religions of course.

The mistress had charge of the "wee room" up to second class P4 now and taught the elements of writing with such aids as sand trays, slates and millboards. She taught needlework cookery and singing by means of tonic solfa hand signs. She had a vast repertoire of songs among them The Coulin, The Snowy Breasted Pearl, The Lark in the Clear Air, I'm sitting on the style, Mary, and many more.

I well rem.ember too the three framed pictures hanging in her room, ads for Oval tine - of a boy, - each picture showing a different expression on the face - Anticipation, Realisation and Satisfaction - How I marvelled at those big words.

The master, a tall man with a white moustache and a southern accent was in charge of the big room and ruled, not exactly with a rod of iron but with a flexible cane.

His prime interest was mathematics, English came second and no excuse was accepted for bad spelling or grammar although he closed his eyes to style. I used to think I had done a good essay if I had no grammatical or spelling errors. His one little drift from virtue was his craving for the nicotine - often leaving the room. for"a breath offresh air" and returning with the strong smell of smoke on that same "breath" and his white moustache a little more tanned than before.

The mistress too had a small flaw. She loved a little "flutter on the gee-gees," and through the good offices of Johnny Carson the bus man, placed her one shilling each way with the bookies in Downpatrick.

I suppose you could call conditions then idyllic. At least for me they were - but good things don't last for ever. A new priest arrived in Strangford, Father Magowan and he, with dubious wisdom decided to start a school for catholics in the parochial hall just when Master Noonan was retiring. MyoId "alma mater", being no longer viable, closed. Thankfully I had left by that time and my memories are still clear and intact of those happy days.

Miss O'Driscollleft for a school in Raglan Street, Belfast. She was not offered nor did she apply for work in the new school. Her loyalty was to the Quarry Hill as mine is too, and that of my friends and classmates Muriel, Paddy, Una,Alfie, Pat, Godfrey, Dotie etc.

Footnote: Vera's magazme.

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was related to her brother Eamon who wrote it down for this

23

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Murnin's Boatbuilding Workshop Kevin MacLaverty

m

URN1NS BOA"CBUl L01N<::; workshop was a local institution in the district from well before my days as a youngster. It was ideally situated by the sea, with its wide doors opening onto the road mid-way between Strangford and Kilclief. I remember my great aunt telling me of resting there one evening in June when walking out from Strangford. It must have been quite a picture, my auntie resting on a trestle, the sun on her auburn hair and James, the dedicated craftsman, working and telling her about the boat he was working on. James was washing linseed oil through a new sailing boat, and the new larch planking must have glowed like old gold. As far as I can make out, the boat was the Stella Maris, once owned by Siney Sharvin and now much modified and run-down ashore at Mill Quarter. One can still admire her efficient lines as a boat to carry a press of sail and the outstanding craftsmanship in her construction.

Sadly, I never met James, as he died before I was old enough to be aware of things.

Joe Murnen b ecame my mentor on all matters of craftsmanship and boats. My father used to leave me with Joe, generally off the bar of his bicycle on his way into Strangford and collect me on the way home. There was nearly always a passerby or two there. Joe was adept at working and talking at the same time.

Joe, as I remember him, was quite a small man with bright brown eyes and a James Connolly moustache. He looked just like the pictures ofVictorian craftsmen with the linen apron and flat tweed cap typical of those times. He always wore a strong pair of shoes as does anyone who has learned to use an adze! He smoked a curled pipe from time to time. He had that poised and unhurried way of moving, and picking up tools which true craftsmen develop. To an impatient youngster he seemed to take an age, eyeing and handling a piec~ of wood before applying a tool to it. I now know he was sensing the grain, texture and character of the piece. I remember arriving with a "boat" I had made at the age of seven or so - indistinguishable from a thick tent peg. "Not much of a boat that!" said Joe handling it. Eventually he took it over to his chopping block, the butt of a tree, and using only a hand axe, shaped a perfect little moulded dinghy out of the wood. It seemed so easy I thought I could do the same myself. I was enthralled - for a lifetime!

The workshop was a comfortable place. No screaming machinery pulverising timber, no piped music,just the intermittent "chunk" of a tool hewing a piece of work out of the rough, or the whistle of a very keen-edged plane. With perhaps only a bluebottle buzzing against the window, there was plenty of peace for conversation!

The air in the workshop was also clear - no flying dust,just a neat pile of sawdust from hand saws on the floor beneath the trestles and long, curly, scented jackplane shavings on the floor beneath the bench. There was always the beautiful smell of resinous pine in the workshop - no need those days for facemasks, gloves or ear protectors!

The workshop ran east-west and had a floor of beaten earth. Such a floor was traditional in boatbuilding as it made the setting up of keel blocks and shores easier. It was sometimes necessary to dig a hole under the work for driving drifts and it wasn't unknown for a lead keel to be cast in the earth alongside a new building. The shop was long and the roof unsupported. It's ridge, because of the length, developed a sag in the middle just like a boat. It was reroofed once in my lifetime and the new roof developed the old sag . . A fine woodworker's bench ran the whole length of the south wall with 25

great daylight from two broad windows. The bench had various vices, stops and support pegs along its length for working boat planking and spars in one piece. Above the windows there was a continuous shelf with dozens and dozens of wooden planes of all shapes and sizes for making mouldings and spars. These were stowed neatly side by side, stern on. Below the bench the more specialised planes were kept such as the Stanley combination plane - a complicated metal contraption of fences, depth gauges and spur cutters. This plane took two plane irons one behind the other. With this virtually any moulding could be shaped by hand. There was also a compass plane. This had a spring steel sole capable of matching curved work of any radius.

In general the Murnins used wooden planes for preference. I have one still with the Murnin name stamped into it. Well kept wooden planes worked beautifully once the blade, or iron, was set correctly. This was done by deft taps with a mallet, or light hammer, on different parts of its body. I never acquired this skill for by the time my iron was set correctly it needed rehoned.

Against the east gable were shelves and racks for timber. Here you would also find interesting patterns for everything from hurley sticks to wheel felloes, gothic window frames and of course mysterious half models of boats built or proposed. On the west wall there was a side door with a standard hand-drilling machine beside it. Between this and the main door was a treadle lathe with a cabinet for turning, and other tools, alongside.

Just inside the main door was the butt of a tree with a small hand axe stuck in the top of it. This was where small items got their initial shaping. The main door had two leaves.

The left-hand leaf had a peculiar oblong window at the top .!. I suspect more for checking out who was passing on the road than admitting light. There was no electricity in the workshop so all work was done by hand during the hours of daylight - clearly a healthy regime as I never knew Joe to wear glasses, and he seemed always as healthy as a trout.

The dwelling house was next door to the workshop, and the cosiest little cottage imaginable with wooden ceilings and wainscoting in each room. The house was tucked below the level of the road under sycamore trees with a lovely fuchsia hedge opposite the front door.

I learnt from Joe Murnin how the shape of a boat was conceived by carving a beautifully smooth and fair half model, generally to the scale of one inch to the foot. This was the product of much debate and compromise between the builder and the owner. A boat too flat on the bottom for her length would be "as stiff as a church". However, such a boat would have a dangerous tendency "to get down to her work" when heeled under sail.

A boat too lifted in the bottom '"" for her length would be \. , . described as having "no bearings", that is, a poor load

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Kevin's sketch of Murnin's as he remembers it in the 40's" with the water butt and the ever open-door"

26

carrier and" crank", though easily rowed. One can just picture great discussions between visitors while Joe quietly got on with the business of conception and execution. Mter the half model was shaped, it was taken apart and measured accurately and scaled up to yield the shapes of the moulds or "shadows" round which the actual boat was built.

The Murnin punt evolved into a craft ideally suited to the waters around the Lough. It was around fifteen feet long - a good compromise between size and ease of handling out of the water. Murnen punts were good load and sail carriers and were easily rowed with their well-lifted transoms. The weight of build was suited to the intended use of the boat. The stress points were always elegantly reinforced with tapering knees or crooks and most noticeable of all, the run of the planking was always "eye sweet", the hallmark of true clinker boat-building craftsmanship. Before the second World War changed everything forever, the price of a punt used to be "a pound a foot".

A Murnin punt was certainly some fifteen pounds worth!

In addition to boats,Joe Murnin did all forms of country woodwork. It was not unusual to see a cart complete with wheels being built. Obviously there was much collaboration between Joe and the blacksmiths of the district. Joe made my father a cradle scythe. This was to an old traditional pattern with two shafts, one straight and one curved with a handle on each. The whole affair together with its blade was made to fit my father's height and length of arm. The frame was made of ash and joined together with through tenons and the whole heavily chamfered for lightness. Once this was set swinging it cut with little effort.

Joe also made model yachts for my cousin Bob McAlister, my brother Colm and myself. These were beautifully moulded craft, carved from yellow pine, hollowed inside and elegantly decked. I have mine still and the hull is still as smooth and fair as the day it was made. It seems there was a big sport of sailing model yachts in days gone by, and Joe spoke of races in Castleward before the war.

Ash hurley sticks were an ongoing product and here I learnt the importance of choice of wood and grain for strength and durability. Joe attached huge importance to the correct choice of timber for each use. Ifhe didn't have the correct timber for a job he held off until the timber became available. At the end of the war with all timber in short supply,Joe's work became confined to small items and repairs.

It was abo.ut this time I would appear with my own tools and their rat bitten edges.

Joe had the patience of Job with me. After an initial slow, disapproving scrutiny, an excursion would be made to the large hand grindstone behind the workshop. I would work the handle and Joe would hold my tool dead accurately on the wheel without a guide. The labour of turning the handle seemed to go on forever with the odd break to slop some water or grit on the stone. With this gentle, unspoken discipline of consequence, I learnt a profound respect for a tool's cutting edge! Eventually Joe would deem the grinding adequate and the tool would then be honed on his oilstone to a superlative edge.

Joe, through his patience and kindness to me as a youngster, in his quaint workshop, gave me a deep love for boats, wood and craftsmanship which has stayed with me all my life. May he and all the long line of craftsmen who gave him his skills receive their eternal reward.

27

Life and Leisure in Kilclief James Denvir's Story ...... as told to

Peig Denvir

WAS born in Cairnteggart, September 1916. The family moved to Kilclief in the spring of that year and I have lived there ever since. I went to school at 4 years until I was 15 years of age. I had 2 brothers and one sister. We left our boots under a whin on the way to school and travelled and played barefoot until we got our boots again on the way home. Mr McMullan and Miss Cosgrove taught the boys and Mrs Blaney and Miss Mulholland taught the girls. Very few pupils went beyond the 7th class except those perhaps who were going for the priesthood. For most people living and working on farms, conditions were poor and money was very scarce. At that time there was no marketing system and farmers had to depend on the cattle dealer to con1.e and look at the stock and offer a pnce.

Discipline was much more strict in our school days and we had to behave as best we could in case stories came home! Our parents would reprimand us severely as well as our teachers. On the way to and from school the older children kept an eye on the younger ones and the neighbours were ever watchful for any devilment we might get up to.

All summer we played on the beach at the Chimney rocks with Ballynarry children and visitors from Belfast who had summer houses around the locality - Hursons, McEvoys, Hughy and Tommy McLarnon (who I remember was a great ladies man!) We played hurly when the tide was out but it wasn't very popular with the rest of the holiday makers as it was, I suppose rather dangerous.

James, in front of his stone-built home After schooldays were over I served my time photographed by his son Maurice as a joiner to James Gracey who was married to an aunt of mine, Emily Magee. I cycled to work every day, 6 days per week for 5/ -. Work was hard then as you were expected to do the work of a grown man. We worked at improving farm buildings and modernising dwelling houses, making carts and cart wheels ete.

1

Hurling For recreation our first love was hurley which was handed down to us by hurlers such as Charlie Kerr,Jimmy Swail and many others. It was usual for Charlie Kerr to coach the young lads in the enginehouse field opposite his own home near the school. We also practised in the common where Ballycotton is now and played our matches at the Mount. At that time the pitch ran parallel to the road but later when more land was purchased and the park was under reconstruction we played our games in the Yellow park behind the castle. Patsy and Dan Sharvin ploughed and levelled the field. Good hurlers came out of this common. With so many young lads there was little space to 28

1

manoeuvre and we learned to get rid of the ball quickly or lift it neatly in the minimum of space and time, unaware that under these conditions we were perfecting the skills that made us a bunch of very talented hurlers for future competitions over the years. There were Reids, Kings, Swails, Conways, Denvirs and Fitzsimonses among those mighty men ofKilclief. It is said that John Fitzsimons of the Brow as he was known, scored 44 pts out of forty two seventy yard frees in one season - one ending up in the goal!

On m atch days the Park was crowded, busloads came with visiting teams and our own supporters cam e out in great numbers. It was a great era for Kilclieffor many years on. Excitement ran high for we won many trophies far and wide. C elebrations and presentations of course were held in Kilcliefhall at the ceilis where our own Stella Maris ceili band played and Tomrny R eid, w ho ran a dancing class, was feara-tighe. It was standing room only on these occasions.

Golf As we got older and not so fleet of foot we tried our hand at golf in Strangford, where they had a nineho l e go lf co urse . It had a membership of 200 at one time an d th e annual fee was ÂŁ3. We played with wooden shafted clubs.

I remember Jimmy Teggart of Ballynarry was greensman.

James's sister-in-law Delia Regrettably it didn't last too long Cardwell on Strangford Links as war broke out, and due to petrol - 1930's rationirig the members from outlying district as far away as Belfast could not get down. There was not enough membership to keep it going and so it was closed down.

However its existence will never be forgotten in Strangford for its memory is kept alive with addresses such as the Links and The Fairways nearby.

Cards One of our winter pastimes was playing cards (solo whist and poker) in Master George's who was the school principal in Strangford at that time. Among p. McMu llan, capta in 1933, outside the the regulars were Dickie Dougherty, Mick Beattie,John Strangford Golf Links McKeown and John McCausland. The games were low key in that not much money was involved but you had to be a good whist player to take part. If you made a mistake or did the least thing wrong you'd be hunted!

Nevertheless we hJd many good laughs and it was most enjoyable.

It wasn't only the cards that provided the night's craic among our 'school'. Once Master George won a live duck at a raille and kept it in the backyard. This duck had to be fed and watered and closed up every night. One night after the cards, some of the boys unknown to me, lifted the duck on their way out and put it in my van. Next day they told Constable Tomrny Connors the set up and asked him to come up to my house to 'make inquiries'. So to go along with the joke Tomrny arrived, knocked on our door

clubhouse,

29

and asked for me and said "I hear you lifted Master George's duck last night and put it in your van". I said emphatically "N 0 way". "Well", he said "you were seen. Do you mind ifI have a look". "Go ahead" I said confidently "look as much as you like". The minute Tommy opened the back door of the van the duck sat up and flapped its wings. I was caught red handed! The problem now was how to get the duck back without Master George knowing who took it. Sometime later when Strangford was asleep I, with some help, put the duck in the old gas lamp at the pump in the square opposite George's house so that he'd see it on his way out the next morning. Of course half the people of Strangford saw it too and there was great consternation as to how the duck got up there.

However the duck was rescued and it came to no harm. Such were the pranks which livened the winter months and all in good spirits. Master McMullan, principal of Kilclief school lived in Strangford and his house was a famous card house as well. He is remembered for the Monster whist drive which he organised every Christmas in the Stella Maris hall. Over a hundred tables was the norm and supper was provided by the ladies. Alongside this event Master George ran a very successful ballot. This annual event was part of the Christmas season's festivities and provided a talking point for many days after.

Drama Long winter nights were filled with indoor activities. Siney Sharvin ran a very enjoyable dramatic society. He and Master McMullan produced many of George Shiel's kitchen plays which were very popular at that time. "Moody in Manitoba", "The New Gosson" and "Paul Twyning" were among our efforts.

Memories when recalled, for some reason seem to be selective. Some of the cast in our Society that first come to mind were joe McMullan, Anna Kerr, Bridie Beattie, Brendan Sharvin, Eily and Maureen McMullan, Nora Magee and Hughy McAfee.

In one particular production by Master McMullan,joe McMullan and I had leading roles. After many nights of learning lines and hard work by the producer the opening night was imminent and it was time for the dress rehearsal. Now whether it was the dressing up that distracted us, but joe and I stammered through the first part and eventually lost our lines completely. I, frantically looked for the script and even then couldn't find my part! Panic set in, poor Master McMullan was at his wits end. "My God, what are we going to do"? He shouted up "sure jimmy Denvir can't even read the thing yet"!

However everything was "alright on the night" and we played to a full house and loud applause.

Badminton The more physical game of badminton in Stella Maris hall was enjoyed by the younger set.

Fr McLaverty, the curate and Master Nihill, the headmaster who succeeded Master George, founded the badminton club in the late 30s. The joining fee was 101-, a sum which the pp Fr McGowan thought too much as it would exclude quite a few people.

Some of the first members were Frank Magee, Seamus and Francie Denvir, Paddy Corrigan,joe McMullan,Thomas Dougherty and myself. The ladies were Moya Convery, Nora Magee, Mary Sharvin and Maisie and Bessie Ledbetter. Senior girls from Stella Maris school were later recruited for 216 each.

The hall roof was low and the side-lines ran along close to the wall. This gave us a decided home advantage but it was disastrous for our away matches. That was a different game altogether!

I remember when practice was over and the others had gone home Seamus Denvir 30

and I would have a ding-dong battle with Tommy Dougherty and Joe McMullan; country v. village! There was great rivalry between us which led to some very lively and enjoyable sessions late into the night. I think it may have been the war that stopped play for a while on account of the difficulty of the "black out" and petrol rationing. It was eventually rekindled due mostly to the efforts of Patrick Dougherty but that is a story for someone else.

Kay and I got married and raised 9 children - 7 boys and 2 girls. There were the usual ups and downs, but compared to our parents we had it easier. The war was over then. There was a building boom and work for tradesmen was plentiful. Grants were available for home renovations and bathrooms became essential for everyday living.

Electricity had arrived and free education and child allowance was introduced. Life changed in many ways.

Although I served my time as a joiner I learned to work at all trades. Always I had a great desire to work with stone so when the family were reared I was able to devote more time to my favourite skill. I was happy building fireplaces, walls and entrances for numerous neighbours in the locality.

Eventually I realised my dream of building my present home completely in stone where God willing, I will live out my retirement.

31

Where is St. Caylan's Well?

Isobel Magee

C

he well

of St. Caylan is in the field where the hedge is marked (X) in the drawing. The hedge was removed some time after 1924 and the flax dam filled in.A few years ago the nQ.E. were laying a water main along the road and over the bridge. At the river they unearthed a very big stone and dumped it in the quarry nearby.

The late "Surgeon" Tate was very interested in the history of Lecale. With my father he helped remove a large stone that was lying along the bank of the river. They traced it with two horses to the well that is now the run-off of St. Caylan's well.

These two stones possibly formed the top and side stone of the original well. The third stone is probably lying in the well or covering it, with a depth of soil on top. The well is likely to have been of a beehive shape - two side stones and one across the top.

The following letter (published by kind perm iss ion if the editor of the Down Recordel) was Two sketches drawn by Isobel Magee illustrating the written by the late DrThomas changes in the area around Caylan's Well since 1924 Millant Tate (,Surgeon'Tate) in October 1932.

St. Caylan Sir, The early church of Kilclief was dedicated to St. Caylan known also' as St. Mochai, the first Abbot of Mahee.

His mother, Bronach was a daughter of Milcu , with whom St. Patrick was in bondage.

She married, and settled in the vicinity of Saul, where the Saint on his return met her again. He baptised and educated her sons one of whom was St. Caylan. His association with the church ofKilcliefled me to inquire in the neighbourhood if any spot remained to preserve his name, or any tradition lingered to recall his memory.

Help came enthusiastically from a kindly people. One evening I listened to the story that was told of an old man returning from his day's work, sitting down to rest quietly on a fence beneath which a gentle stream flowed. Suddenly came the noise of 32

l rushing waters. He was startled. He looked down. As the stream was undisturbed, he sought about for an explanation. It came from a well nearby which tradition says overflowed at certain times. I asked its name. "It has one, but I can't mind it now" was the reply, ''I'll have it for you tomorrow".

Next evening I made my way to St. Caylan's well. It lies beside the main road to Drurnroe, nestling under a hedge. Two bullion stones with curious markings now guard its entrance.

Legend too awoke: Long ago two strangers came to Drurnroe and made a dwelling for themselves by digging a cave in a sand pit bank. The strangers were Bronagh and her husband, it was their first home, and here St. Caylan was born.

You may still see the place.

There is a simple charm about this quiet spot - a gorse-covered knoll by the roadside, where wild nature now makes her home, a riot of gold in the springtime, the air filled with fragrance and song.

A prophet had honour in his own country.

Footnote: The sandbank riferred to in the legend lies behind Caylan Ellesmere's house I.M

33

The Christmas Rhymers Les lie McKibben

(Reprinted jrom our first volume oj memories)

L

he ChR1S'CffiAS rhymers or mummers as they were also called are reminders of folk custom in bye-gone years. They have been handed down by our forefathers, rituals and beliefs going back hundreds of years to ancient history.

The origin of this ritual ceremony of folk lore has long been forgotten. We know the words used by the rhymers were brought to these parts by planters from England and Scotland. They brought with them their cultural inheritance.

However, before the plantation of these parts it is thought that symbols of rural identity did take place in some country communities in Ireland. To these people the saving of the harvest was very important, the symbol of life and death, the passage of time from winter to spring.

These wandering troupes of rhymers were supposed to bring good luck to any homestead which admitted them. They were always distinguished, usually in show costumes, hats, and hob-nailed boots, and acted a made-up nonsense play. Memories of over 50 years ago described by Jimmy Curran who was a rhymer in a Ballyculter troupe whose other members were Jinuny Kearney, Bill and Frank Reid, Ned and Barney Denvir,Johnny McKeating and John McIlmurray. One always looked forward to calling at a home where a card party was taking place as the coim would be more plentiful.

Normally the rhynlers just walked in to the homes, but in homes with children their approach was more restrained. Depending on the circumstances of the home, they either received food, cake, or biscuits , or a few coins in payment for their performance.

The highlight of our troupe was the visit to the big house, Castleward which was equivalent of getting into Buckingham Palace.

On one memorable visit we were met at the door by the then butler, the late John McIlheron who frowned on our arrival as a large family party was in progress, but luckily for us Lord Bangor came on the scene and the butler was instructed to admit us.

We carried out our performance much to the approval of Lord and Lady Bangor, their daughters and guests. I was asked to sing and gave a rendering of "Those old lavender trousers" much to everyone's delight and his Lordship insisted I write him out the words. We were rewarded to the tune of ÂŁ3-4 which was placed in Jack Funny's money box.

The final event of each evening was the equal divide ofJack Funny's Money Box.

The following, by the late jim111y Curran, (as told to Peig Denvir) is reproduced jrom our first volume oj memories.

34

Duty on Christmas Island in the Pacific Ocean as told by Corporal James Curran B.B.M. Ballylena JOlNeo the Royal Airforce in 1943. One of my tours of duty was to a nuclear testing base on Christmas Island, so named as it was discovered by Captain Cook on Christmas day 1777.

I was involved in the catering trade, which was no mean task, cooking for upwards to 10,000 men at the height of "Operation Grapple" which was its code name.

A consignment of 200 tons of potatoes arrived on the island. While inspecting these in the store I recognised two potato merchants' labels from Northern Ireland.

One was H J Barry & Co Ltd and the other was Kevin McCall, Belfast. On further inspection, 10 and behold, I came across the name ofJ Elliot & Co Ltd from my native Co Down! Excitement led me to delve further and there I found the name of a number of local farmers I knew personally - John McKeating, Carriff, John Conway of Legnagoppack, John Johnston of Cloughy and Robert McGhie of Ballyalton to name but a few. I picked off the known labels and returned them to J Elliot and Co as proof of my story. It is indeed a small world - potatoes from Strangford to Christmas Island a distance of approximately 14,000 miles!

I just sat down on one of the sacks for my thoughts were far away in my native Co Down. It was a very moving experience and needless to say brought a tear to my eye, which was quite understandable.

While on duty at Basseroad, Singapore I was on night duty in the kitchen. The guard was doing his rounds when he enquired "Could I have a cup o'char, mate?" On looking up I recognised a school mate, Adam Hughes of Carnacaw! I said "What are you doing here, Hughes?" In reply he enquired "What are you doing here, Curran?"

Needless to say he got a slap-up meal and we talked most of the night recalling home and our days in the same class at Ballyculter school. We each didn't know that the other had joined the airforce.

I was on Christmas Island for both nuclear bomb tests. It was a terrifying experience.

Although we wore protective clothing and were well briefed to turn our backs and to press our hands tightly over our eyes we could still see the flash and actually see the bones of our fingers. The shock wave lifted us completely off the ground and back down again. We were then told we could look around and there we saw the actual "giant mushroom" familiar to you all on television.

The second explosion was not just so terrifying as one knew what to expect. On my return to the UK I was awarded the British Empire Medal for meritorious service.

However my sojourn in the Air Force was not without its laughter side. One of the beauties of being stationed on Christmas Island was that one got leave to visit Honolulu, Hawaii. I spent seven days in Hawaii and rubbed shoulders with Texas millionaires and Holywood film stars on the famous Waikiki Beach. From there one could get a trip from Japan by the American military transport who ran shuttle services to Japan.

Amongst the 10,000 men on the Island there were, well, I'd class them as "two old dears". They were involved in welfare - domestic troubles with servicemen's marriage breakdown etc. The funny part of it was these ladies, between 60 and 70 years old, had an armed guard! With 10,000 frustrated troops need I say more.

1

35

Poems of Yesteryear George McKibben

L

he ~oLLoW1NC; poems about some members of staff and happenings on the

Castleward estate are submitted by George McKibbin, Ballyculter. They were recited to him a number of years ago by the late Ernest Swail.

Ernest, with his father Henry Swail, were boatmen to Lord Bangor.

George Johnston snr., who composed the poems was head gardener in the vegetable garden which was beside the 'Temple', sometimes referred to as, 'The Temple Garden'.

'Tom Orr whitewashing the vinery' Tom Orr he is silly, or else he's not well Said he to himself; "Orr you've whitewashed that well, You've whitewashed the gable and also the glass, You could have put better whitewash on with your "a-s-s))!

Jimmy Mcllheron and the housemaid from Castleward The gardener from Myra, has got a girl at last He isn't what you'd call a blo'/,/), but he is a constant blast.

He takes her out on Sundays, the weather it being fine The jealous m.inded rascals, all follow up behind, He showed her Myra castle, and the great hills that are all whins, He treated her to sweeties, in a shop called Johnny Quinns' - (Mallard) Pig killing day in Castleward It's coming up on market day I think so/ne pigs we'll kill And hang them in the slaughter house Just beside the mill.

The 'B', he introduced the gun Said he, "I'll shoot him dead)).

(The pig', he only blinked his eye And turned, and looked at Ned. Said Lennon, "throw that toy away Things like that I ha~e.

Skipper shouted "murder,!

Run and shut the gate))!

Old 'B' and Skipper made a race Each seizing by the tail, if the sergeant COI11.es upon the scene He'll chuck us all in gaol.

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Characters in this poem were: 'B'-Wm. Coffey junior, Old 'B' -Wm Coffey senior Skipper - Harry Swail N ed - N ed Crangle, father of the late James and William Crangle of 'The Rock'Lennon - Johnny Lennon of Raholp - pig killer and seller of fresh herrings from his horse and spring cart.

Burke Murphy - Estate Agent at Castleward My name it is Old Murphy I live up at 'The Gate' To my work I'm always early You never find me late.

I work with 'Dody Skillen' A very jokey chap When you get him started It's hard to get him stopped.

Then there's Samuel Cciffey And also Ernest Swail And as for Billy Aiken He's always on your tail.

Bob Skillen Some people call me 'Dody', I'm a gardener to trade I work down in Lord Bangors' vVhere I'm great with graip or spade.

I go to Down on Saturday With the people there I'm thick I presented Mr Hastings With a beautiful walking stick.

Mr Hastings took the stick He viewed it up and down Said he, "The man that made that stick Would be a credit to this town" .

The fiddle it's forgotten now Behind the door it's put.

Says Dody, "There's more money, In scuttling out the duck" Says Sarah , "Now our toil is over And we will work no more", Since Dody scuttled out the duck That went baskg by the shore.

'Dody Skillen' - Bob Skillen, who worked in the rose garden beside the 'Big House' Billy Aiken - Landsteward.

Down - Downpatrick. Mr Hastings monumental sculptor in Downpatrick.

Sarah - Mrs Skillen.

Once when Lady Bangor was walking in the rose garden, she saw Bob's jacket hanging on his graip, but couldn't see Bob around.

She shouted "Skilling"! a few times, but still Bob wasn't to be seen.

Lady Bangor was heard to say - "Oh, he must be around somewhere - there's his jacket"!'

Bob had gone off home early that day!

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--

.A Sailor's Lament Lawrence Breen.

Today I sit and smoke my pipe My heart is sad and sore My every joy in life is gone My Brigantine's no more.

A stately ship, that ploughed the main When wild nor-easters blew, Of every heart the pride and joy To her sailors ever true.

No more we'll lay her on the breeze When bound to lands cifar.

Farewell sweet ship, no more you'll plough The waves cif Cuan Bar. My mates and col11.rades dead and gone Far from their Irish home, Together 'neath thy tapering masts No more we'll cross the foam.

No m.ore we'll sing in chorus With the capstan clicking roun' As we sail the coast cif Malabar, Of Kerry or cif Down.

Farewell then Portciferry I may never see you more Also each hill and valley That bounds Lough Cuan's shore.

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Do Ye Mind The Time?

Michael Conway And ye talk about the oul' days and how life used to be So I thought I'd remind yez all if you would like to listen About those times gone by-a spot of reminiscin'!

Now this oul' reminiscin can be painful on the brain When ye can't recall the year or put a name to - {{What's his name?"

So I'm goin' to mention somethings to try and ring some bells And help to activate those wee grey memory cells if you're sitting comfortable, I'll carry on my rhyme By asking each and everyone cif you if you can {{mind the time" Do ye mind the time bifore the tractor when only horses could be seen And Tom King ran the smith, where he learnt from Robert Breen Or when Murnin's built the boats that sailed the ocean blue And for a Guinness and a candle, they'd make a hurl for you Or when first cars arrived and you could have a ride In Willie Conway's taxi, he'd take you far and wide?

Do ye mind the shops around the village?

Willie John Sharvin used to trade With everything taken out of bags and individually weighed And Dickeie Dougherty after that, and Johnny Polly too Anything you wanted, they'd try and get for you.

And what about the schools - I'm sure there's stories you recall There were no computers then, just the Blackboard on the wall And these integrated schools you'd think were something strange and new But past pupils in Ballyculter could tell a thing or two The prods and papists learned together that Three and four make seven And the parish priest and minister taught each their way to heaven Do ye mind the (craic' in those days, all those years ago Ceilis in Kilcliif hall that had once stood in Drumroe The musicians at those ceilis were renowned throughout the land With Tommy Reid as Fear a Ti and St Malachy's ceili band And not far from where we are now, many will recall Dancin' to the Hawaiian band in Stella Maris hall Or watching Strangford drama group putting on their plays 39

Yes, many would agree that those were the good old days But of course they weren't all good times and you also might remember The night the chapel burned down one Sunday in September Or in 1946 when the landing craft went down And up around Killard, the "Georgtown Victory}} ran aground As well as that, cif course there were days of celebration Regatta days in Strangford, first c01nmunions confirmations.

Ah! All those Regatta days when the sun shone bright and fair The children in their fancy dress parading round the square And the streets were thronged with people as the children walked around And past the oul stone pump - it's a shame they took it down Dr Moore helped run the show then and they call1.e frOl1't near and far And the R egatta Queen was driven round in Eamon McGuigan's car.

Out in Lough the Flying Fifteens could be seen by one and all.

The day finished up in style, with a dance in the Cuan hall There were other happy days that I could tell to you The opening cif the chapel in 1932 Or that big day in '44 the official opening of the park And ten years later electric came and we were no longer in the dark.

This extract sums up many oJ this year's collection oJ memories.

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