Come back Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff

The Garden of Eden has vanished, they say,            But I know the lie of it still.           Just turn to the left at the Bridge of Finnea           And stop when halfway to Cootehill.           'Tis there you will find it, I'll go, sure enough,            When fortune has come to my call,            For the grass it grows around Ballyjamesduff,            And the blue sky is over it all.           And tones that are tender, and tones that are gruff,           Are whispering over the sea:          'Come back Paddy Reilly, to Ballyjamesduff,            Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me'.                                          *            My mother once told me that when I was born,           The day that I first saw the light.             I looked down the street on the very first morn,           And gave a great crow of delight.           Now most new-born babies appear in a huff,            And start with a sorrowful squall.            But I know I was born in Ballyjamesduff           And that's why I smiled on them all!            The baby's a man now, he's toil-worn and tough,           Still, whispers come over the sea.           'Come back Paddy Reilly, to Ballyjamesduff,           Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me'.                                           *           The night that we danced by the light of the moon,           Wid Phil to the fore wid his flute.           When Phil threw his lip over "Come a-gin soon",           He'd dance the foot out o' yer boot!           The day that I took long Magee by the scruff,           For slander in'  Rosie Kitrain;           Then march - in'  him straight out of Ballyjamesduff,           As-sis-ted him into a drain.           Oh ! sweet are me dreams, as the dudeen I puff,           Of whisperings over the sea.           'Come back Paddy Reilly, to Ballyjamesduff,            Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me'.                                          *           I've loved the young wee-man of every land,           That always come easy to me.            Just barrin' the bells of the Black-a-more brand           And chocolate shops of Feegee.           But that sort of love is a moon shinning stuff,           And never will addle me brain;           For bells will be ringin' in Ballyjamesduff           For me and me Rosie Kilrain.           And all through their glamour, their gas, and their gruff,            A whisper comes over the sea.           'Come back Paddy Reilly, to Ballyjamesduff,            Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me'.

In the County Cavan (adapted from The Jarvey No. 31, 1997)

       In the Chronicles and Poems of Percy French, edited by his sister Emily De Burgh Daly, in a chapter headed 'In the County Cavan', Percy French (1854-1920) wrote: "I had given up all hopes of work in Ireland and had packed my portmanteau for Manitoba, when I received a notice from the Irish Board of Works that I was appointed inspector of loans to tenants, and that Cavan was to be my headquarters". So it was that Percy French spent from 1883-88 in that land of green fields, drumlins, and a lough or lake for almost every day of the year, where he formed the minstrel troupe he named The Kinnypottle Komics. A newspaper of his day reported: "Musically, dramatically and artistically the troupe was well balanced and very perfect in its way".