Poems for All Occasions by Mairead Tuohy Duffy Page A

never bowed.
    The man, who never once gave in, he spurred the youth along,
    Arranging games for them to play, through showers
    and mist and fog.
    Who could it be but my kinsman, a friend for many a year,
    Denis P. of the Beara Clan, he encouraged boy and man.
    Against Kenmare, they often played in Pairc Ui Bhraoin so grand,
    Each player a born sportsman, like mountain hares, they sprang.
    I just had reached my teenage years, ’twas way back in ’47,
    When five minors from Kilgarvan’s team,
    were picked to play for Kerry
    They were Dan and Paudie Healy and Tim the Junior fine,
    The late Jer Quill from Knockeens and the stalward
    Dan Healy Shine.
    In ’51, they beat Listowel and Abbeydorney too,
    And later on the Crotto boys and Killarney’s mighty crew.
    But the match of note in Austin Stacks, the year was ’53,
    When Kilgarvan won the championship’gainst Lixnaw,
    4–4 to 2 goals 3
    Ah, Richie was the captain then, an experienced agile man,
    So many of that team have gone, they are now in Heaven’s land,
    Jer Quill, Jer Healy, Tim Junior hail, all have passed away,
    That jolly soul,Con Mahony, God rest them all to day.
    Ah mighty were those Village boys in glorious ’53,
    In dreams I hear the sliotar’s sound and the camans from local trees.
    The Gills, my cousins, Tom and Sean, Denis P. with John and Con,
    Densie and his namesake, and the O’ Leary brothers strong.
    And then the clan of Randles from Clontoo that vale so fair,
    There was Connie Jack, and Felix Pats and Paddy Tom, I swear,
    Joined by kinsman, Tomas Mickeen, a short bit up the road,
    Timmy Mahony, fast and swift, like a fawn he jumped and strove.
    The muinteoir, Dermot Hickey, and the Healy brothers, four,
    Paudie Om, Jer, Dan and Sean were always to the fore.
    Lets not forget the blondie boy, Sonny Dillon’s smiling face,
    Urged along by their captain, Richie, strict, but always straight.
    Those were the days of fun and joy,and that mighty Kilgarvan team,
    There are many more the list is long, I’d like to mention here,
    The supporters came from Roughty Vale, Kenmare,
    Glenflesk, Incheese,
    Hurling was their gift from God, a pastime noble, clean.
    ’Twas many a Sunday afternoon,
    as we walked down the village street,
    Each door was closed, the natives gone,
    to applaud their beloved team
    I often smile in pensive mood, when I think of the spirit then,
    The deserted village was the home of those hearty hurling men.
    They gave their best when times were hard, emigration took its toll,
    Loyal to the end, God fearing men, undaunted by storm or snow.
    We can’t forget their neighbouring team, Kenmare, their ally proud,
    Who beat Lixnaw in ’42, midst shouts and cheers and crowds.
    Jer Mac, who dwells in Main Street,captained them with pride
    Gus Maybury and his brother George adorned the Kenmare side.
    Johnny Thady from beloved Cross roads and Tullig’s Michael Ned,
    Were Roughty’s boys, who swung the ash,
    Dick Aldwell, long since dead.
    Sonny Palmer, O’Sullivan Flor, the Mountains,Denis and
    Tadhg, Mick Lynch, Young Gaule from Kilkenny and
    McCarthy from Shannon’s side,
    Pat Dan Mick O’ Sullivan, and many another lad,
    Brought fame to Inbhear Sceine ,making selector Ted Clifford glad.
    Many the brilliant match we watched in Fr. Breen’s Park renowned,
    Between the rivals of our vale, the Village and the Town,
    They played like mighty swordsmen,
    you could hear the clash of ash,
    Years later, Tony Murphy and his team mates,
    were surely upper class.
    Then very shortly after that ,the rivals would unite,
    The best of them were picked to play for Kerry, side by side,
    I’ve often been to Croke Park and Pairc Ui Chaoimh in Cork,
    But OH, for those dashing hurlers away in the distant past.
    They played the game with might and pride,
    with spirit and good cheer,
    The leather sliotar and caman by Roughty’s gliding stream.
    To all of them, who still survive, you gave of your very best,
    And to those of you all gone above, may you lie in