Looking for words / Lyrics of poem / song - "The Priesting Of Father John"

Ceoltoirin

If anyone has or knows where to get the lyrics / words of the poem " The Priesting of Father John" I'd really appreciate being pointed in the right direction. I've tried googling it already with no luck, except for being sent to a site relating to Eamonn Girr and his CD.

Thanking you in advance.

Ceoltoirin.

flanum

try here... http://www.thesession.org/tunes/index/search?name=the+priesting+of+father+john&type_id=&mode_id=

many different names to same tune....

Ceoltoirin

Thanks Flanum, but this is a recitation I am looking for and although you are right that it may go by a different name it is the words of the recitation that I would like. If there is a tune for 'song' then I would be greatfull to find that also, but it is the words that I am really looking for.

I have tried many sites and archives but can't seem to find it. I remember learning it at school and was hoping that some primary or secondary school teacher out there reading this may have it. My Grandmother also used to recite it but a few of the verses have become mixed up, the words lost etc so was hoping that someone out there may have a complete version.

Thank you again in advance.
Ceoltoirin.

flanum

good luck with it... my only suggestion then is try the chiff and fipple messsage board and go into the trad irish forum... or even the virtual pub forum... lots of helpful folks... tell them i sent ye...!

Rithim

Hi,
Try asking for info at this site.I looked for lyrics but no results came up.
http://www.mudcat.org/
Hope you get some help there.

bengoodyear

Hello,
I was at an Irish Literary Festival in Birmingham in March 2011 (part of the St Patrick's Day celebrations). At that event, a lady in her eighties performed "The Priesting of Father John". She had a hand-written version, which she'd copied from someone over fifty years ago. I photographed her copy, and have transcribed it, with much help from my (Irish) wife. She didn't know who the original author was, so if anyone knows, perhaps you could let me know and I'll pass the info on to her.
It's a good poem!
Best,
Ben

The Priesting of Father John

They’ll be priesting him tomorrow,
Sure it’s a queer thing too,
For I mind the rascal he was,
And the things he used to do.
Many’s the time I chased him, when the strawberries were ripe,
Though I admit I never caught him, he was faster than a snipe.
He hit me with a snowball once, and that same very hand,
Will be blessing me the morrow, though it’s hard to understand.

Long Richard from Kircubbin, who’s a sort of far out friend,
Is struttin’ round this fortnight back just like a hatchen hen
And McAlester from Cargie, whose no more to him than me,
Why you’d think to hear the talk of him he’d raised him on his knee.

Tom the tailor is nearly beat for hurrin’ on new suits,
And there’s powerful heavy buying on the caps and yella boots,
The Square is thick with buntin’ man dear twill be a sight,
When the late bus from Downpatrick get in the morra night.

Ould Cannon Dan, God bless him, will be fussin’ fit to burst,
And the women beatin’ t’other to get the blessin’ first.
But Cannon, or no Cannon, and I’d say it to his face,
For all his bit of purple on he’ll take the second place.
And shure even if the Bishop come, with yon big mitre on
He’ll never get the welcome, that we’ll give to Fr. John.
Ah, the pains are at me constant now, I seldom cross the floor,
But I’m crossin’ it the morra, should I never cross it more.
Quit your scoldin’ Julia, and saying I’m not wise,
Sure the sight of him will ease me heart and gladden me auld eyes.

It won’t be easy bendin’, the auld knees will hurt,
But I’ll get down there before him, even in the mud and dirt,
And if I get a chance at all, I’ll whisper in his ear,
Och, I’ll do it nice and easy like, so no-one else will hear.
“If anything should happen to me, before you go away,
There’s no-one but yourself I want to shrive me for the clay.
The Cannon might like it, for he’s still hail and strong,
And I’m sure if he anointed me he wouldn’t do it wrong.
But I’d just feel more contented, if the hand that helped me go,
Was the hand that threw the snowball, twenty years ago.

pa90210

This is brilliant, thanks bengoodyear! My Dad often asks me to find things like this but he doesn't really understand that there's not a whole lot of obscure old Irish songs and poems lying around the internet... He's now going to recite it at a retirement party for our parish priest, Fr. John, so he appreciates your help.