#03590
The Apple Praties (MacEdward Leach)

Jump down to: The Lads Who Live In Ireland
(James Seymour)

My name is Ted O'Mannon,
I come from sweet Killarney O,
Sure I can whistle, I can sing,
sure I can plough, and I can sow;
And when I'm courting purty girls,
I never use the blarney O,
I'll prove to you my meaning sure,
and that before I go.
Sure my country I'd ne'er renounce,
for England, aye or France and Spain,
Though honour on me
I am sure they would bestow,
And gently take me by the hand, saying,
you're welcome to our happy land,
For you come from sweet ould Ireland
where the apple praties grow.

I could tell a great deal more,
if I could trace my pedigree,
My mother was a Fagan,
and my father I don't know;
I'd ninty-nine relations
on the Banks of sweet Killarney O,
That I'll prove without you stirring,
if you write to Michael Row.
I don't belong to the bulgrudderies,
or any low born families,
I sprung from ancient history,
and I'll prove it to be so;
I sprung from the O's and Macs,
the darling sons of Paddy Whack,
And the Knowlens of ould Ireland
where the apple praties grow.

Saint Patrick was our Saint,
and a clever man he was in truth,
And his blessings on ould Ireland
he largely did bestow;
He banished every toad and frog,
for fear they would disgrace the sod,
And by his blessed mitre
he ordered them to go.
It is a fact most certainly,
that cannot contradicted be,
If you trace old Irish history,
you'll find it to be true;
No such heroes can be got
on any earthly spot,
Like the boys of sweet ould Ireland
where the apple praties grow.

~ ENCORE VERSES ~

Sure I have told you what I was,
now I will tell you what I mean;
I mean to be a jolly boy
as long as I have tin;
'Pon my soul I'll sing and laugh,
fill my bowl and drink it off,
And nobody will tell me that
it's either shame or sin.
So here's a toast, a loyal one,
success and luck to Paddy's land,
And may we live to see it
exempted of all woe;
And may her sons now far away,
come back to sing St Patrick's Day,
Among our green valleys
where the apple praties grew.

For ould Ireland is a land
of the purest hospitality,
The home of mirth and frolic,
and the soil where heroes dwell;
And it grieves me to record it,
that misrule and tyranny,
Have made of lovely Erin,
a chaos, a hell.
Still we hope to see the day
when tyrannies shall fade away,
When liberty shall cease
to have on earth a single foe;
When our land shall be again
the glory of the western main,
So Hurrah! for dear ould Ireland
where the apple praties grow.

####.... Variant of a 19th-century British broadside ballad, The Apple Praties, printed by James Lindsay sometime between 1860 and 1880, and archived in The Word On The Street, The National Library of Scotland's online collection of broadsides, shelfmark: L.C.Fol.178A.2(066). Also claimed by James Seymour as his composition, The Lads Who Live In Ireland, but this is difficult to verify. Seymour sang it at Niblo's in the "Dukes Motto", with lyrics published by H De Marsan, publisher of songs, ballads, toy books, etc, No. 60 Chatham Street, New York, and music published by H B Dodworth, 6 Astor Place, New York. ....####
The Duke's Motto was a melodramatic play starring Lawrence Barrett, which opened at Niblo's Garden on Aug 16, 1870.

An incomplete variant was collected in 1951 from Cyril O'Brien [ca.1902-?] of Trepassey, NL, and published as The Apple Praities in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).

A variant was also published as The Lads Who Live In Ireland in the Irish Song Book, No. 1 (New York: Wehman Bros, 1909), page 124.

From Wikipedia:
Bay Of Bantry - Bantry Bay (Irish: Cuan Baoi / Inbhear na mBárc / Bádh Bheanntraighe) located in County Cork, southwest Ireland. The bay runs approximately 35 km (22 mi) from northeast to southwest into the Atlantic Ocean. It is approximately 3 to 4 km (1.8 to 2.5 miles) wide at the head and 10 km (6.2 mi) wide at the entrance. The bay is a deep, approximately 40 metres (131 feet) in the middle, and large natural bay, with one of the longest inlets in southwest Ireland, bordered on the north by Beara Peninsula, which separates Bantry Bay from Kenmare Bay. The southern boundary is Sheep's Head Peninsula, separating Bantry Bay from Dunmanus Bay.
Killarney - (Irish: Cill Airne, meaning "church of sloes") is a town in County Kerry, southwestern Ireland. The town is on the northeastern shore of Lough Leane, which is part of Killarney National Park. The town and its hinterland is home to St Mary's Cathedral, Ross Castle, Muckross House and Abbey, the Lakes of Killarney, MacGillycuddy's Reeks, Purple Mountain, Mangerton Mountain, the Gap of Dunloe and Torc Waterfall. Owing to its natural heritage, history and its location on the Ring of Kerry, Killarney is a popular tourist destination.
Niblo's - New York theatre on Broadway, near Prince Street. It was established in 1823 as Columbia Garden which in 1828 gained the name of the Sans Souci and was later the property of the coffeehouse proprietor and caterer William Niblo. The large theatre that evolved in several stages, occupying more and more of the pleasure ground, was twice burned and rebuilt. On 12 September 1866 Niblo's saw the premiere of The Black Crook, considered to be the first piece of musical theatre that conforms to the modern notion of a "book musical". The final performance at Niblo's Garden was given on March 23, 1895. A few weeks later the building was demolished to make way for a large office structure erected by Henry O. Havemeyer [1847-1907] an American entrepreneur who founded and became president of the American Sugar Refining Company in 1891.
Rosscarbery or Roscarbery - (Irish: Ros Ó gCairbre, meaning "Cairbre's wood") is a town in County Cork, Ireland. The town is on a shallow estuary, which opens onto Rosscarbery Bay. The area has been occupied from very early times, as is evidenced by the Neolithic remains (predating 2000 BC) such as Portal Dolmens. The area is very strong in Bronze Age remains - including a number of Stone Circles. There are also two Inscribed Stones in Burgatia. The number of Ring Forts and Holy Wells witnesses the Iron Age and transition from the Old to the New (Christian) God.

From Dictionary.com:
Blarney - 1. Flattering or wheedling talk; cajolery. 2. Deceptive or misleading talk; nonsense; hooey.

From William Carleton in The Ned M'Keown Stories, Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of William Carleton, Volume Three: "As for the Captain O'Cutters, O'Blunders, and Dennis Bulgrudderies of the English stage, they never had existence except in the imagination of those who were as ignorant of the Irish people as they were of their language and feelings."



#03591
The Lads Who Live In Ireland (James Seymour)

My name is Ned O'Manney,
I was born in sweet Killarney,
I can fight, dance or sing,
I can plough, reap or mow;
And, if I met a pretty girl,
I never practise blarney,
I've something more alluring,
which perhaps you'd like to know.
I'm none of your bulgrudderies,
nor other shabby families,
But can unto my pedigree
a pretty title show:
Oh! I'm of the O's and the Mac's,
and likewise the sturdy Whacks,
That live and toil in Ireland,
where the apple praties grow;
That live and toil in Ireland,
where the apple praties grow.

I could a deal relate,
if I could but trace my pedigree,
My mother was a Hogan,
but my father I don't know;
I've ninety-nine relations
in a place they call Roscarberry,
And each unto their name
has a Mac or an O.
My uncle was a Brallaghan,
my aunt she was a Callaghan,
And as to my character,
why, I can plainly show;
I'm a rantin' rovin' blade,
and I never was afraid,
For I was born in Ireland,
where the apple praties grow;
For I was born in Ireland,
where the apple praties grow.

May heaven still protect
our hospitable country,
Where first I drew my living breath,
and heard its cocks to crow;
Adieu to its green hills,
and its lovely bay of Bantry,
Where many a pleasant evening,
my love and I did go.
Where shoals of fish so pleasantly
did sport about so merrily,
Beneath its glassy surface
their wanton tricks to show;
Oh! Those scenes I did enjoy
like a gay, unthinking boy,
With the lads who live in Ireland,
where the apple praties grow;
With the lads who live in Ireland
where the apple praties grow.

Saint Patrick was our saint,
and a blessed man, in truth, was he,
Great gifts unto our country
he freely did bestow;
He banished all the frogs and toads,
that sheltered in our country,
And unto other regions
it's they were forced to go.
There is one fact, undoubtedly,
that cannot contradicted be,
For, trace the Irish history,
and it will plainly show;
Search the universe all 'round,
tighter fellows can't be found,
Than the lads who live in Ireland,
where the apple praties grow;
Than the lads who live in Ireland,
where the apple praties grow.


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