Rahara © Tony
Fallon August 2016
I got up this morning
and decided to write a poem
About a place called Rahara which I once called home.
It's in Roscommon County and it's not so well known
A little south of the capital town and north of Athlone
With winding hilly roads which were mostly narrow
Starting about four miles from the town of Lecarrow.
Cycling from New Ballagh to Scrine you’d be full of fatigue
You’d also be on the borders of the parish of Athleague
If you headed for Curraghboy you’d deserve a break
What better way to spend it than by Funshinagh Lake
Of all the places that I love, Barnacullen is the tops
Even though it’s far from the school and the shops
I remember very clearly after years of a valiant fight
We were one of the last villages in Ireland to get electric light
I often went riding over fields on Jim Menton’s ass.
Or Malachy Fallon’s pony in the village of Ballyglass
We also used John Joe’s pony to take us in the trap
To mass each Sunday morning without even one mishap.
Even when I was told sternly by my mother, not to dally.
I spent many happy moments at the Ballagh ball alley.
Football and hurling gave us cuts that slowly healed
And three or four of us often played in Ger Egan’s field
The trip to School or Church was over fields of green
And I went to School daily till I was just past fourteen
We were so far away from Rahara I think there was a rule
If we lived on the other side we’d go to Knockcroghery school
We often drank the water from the well that could heal
It was from St. Brigid’s well in the village of Carrowkeel
From Lacken we often brought home hay in loads
When we were in Lacken we were close to Four Roads.
When we were there we’d also plan and scheme
To get from granduncle Willie the price of ice cream
A little while later we’d bring the horse to a full stop
And eat the ice cream lovingly outside Beades’ shop
I remember St Stephens Day dressed up as Davy Crockett,
I cycled round as a wren boy to put some money in my pocket.
The one famous person who ever lived there was Paddy Groake
I wonder what would have happened if he ran in New York
For those who do not know it, our cousin Paddy was supreme
A Champion Rahara Farmer who ran often for the Irish team
About a place called Rahara which I once called home.
It's in Roscommon County and it's not so well known
A little south of the capital town and north of Athlone
With winding hilly roads which were mostly narrow
Starting about four miles from the town of Lecarrow.
Cycling from New Ballagh to Scrine you’d be full of fatigue
You’d also be on the borders of the parish of Athleague
If you headed for Curraghboy you’d deserve a break
What better way to spend it than by Funshinagh Lake
Of all the places that I love, Barnacullen is the tops
Even though it’s far from the school and the shops
I remember very clearly after years of a valiant fight
We were one of the last villages in Ireland to get electric light
I often went riding over fields on Jim Menton’s ass.
Or Malachy Fallon’s pony in the village of Ballyglass
We also used John Joe’s pony to take us in the trap
To mass each Sunday morning without even one mishap.
Even when I was told sternly by my mother, not to dally.
I spent many happy moments at the Ballagh ball alley.
Football and hurling gave us cuts that slowly healed
And three or four of us often played in Ger Egan’s field
The trip to School or Church was over fields of green
And I went to School daily till I was just past fourteen
We were so far away from Rahara I think there was a rule
If we lived on the other side we’d go to Knockcroghery school
We often drank the water from the well that could heal
It was from St. Brigid’s well in the village of Carrowkeel
From Lacken we often brought home hay in loads
When we were in Lacken we were close to Four Roads.
When we were there we’d also plan and scheme
To get from granduncle Willie the price of ice cream
A little while later we’d bring the horse to a full stop
And eat the ice cream lovingly outside Beades’ shop
I remember St Stephens Day dressed up as Davy Crockett,
I cycled round as a wren boy to put some money in my pocket.
The one famous person who ever lived there was Paddy Groake
I wonder what would have happened if he ran in New York
For those who do not know it, our cousin Paddy was supreme
A Champion Rahara Farmer who ran often for the Irish team
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