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Sometimes I pretend to be normal, but it gets boring so I go back to being myself
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 27, 2013 12:04 pm 
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I came across this poem amongst my late Mother's poems but I can't be sure who wrote it.
It will certainly bring back lots of memories. If anyone knows who wrote it please let me know.

No more will we sleigh in old Charlie’s field
Or play cowboys in dark Campbell’s pond
Or travel by train to old Newry town
Or to places even beyond.
No more will we hear the dear Brothers’ bell
Calling them all to prayer
And alas dear Thomas McGivern’s amusements
Are all long gone from the square.

No more will we laugh in our nice swimming baths
Or climb up the fount on the prom,
Alas like the Session and the old Harbour House
All trace of it is now gone.
Nor more on race day will we bet in old Jacks
The Old Forge alas is all lost
No more from the Old Sunshine Lounge will we hear
Sweet music from kind Jackie Ross.

No more will we go to the Garden or Foy
Their films no more will we see,
And alas no more visitors now do we have
In lovely Warrenpoint-By-The-Sea
I’m sorry to say no more Council or Tech
And the old horse trough is gone from the square
And the fine Bowling Green that was in Slieve Foy Place
Now has some fine houses there.

No more will we dance in the Osborne or Alex
Or fox-trot in the Liverpool or Crown
No more 15th of August in the old Cafe Royal
And the Plough has long since been pulled down.
The old Skating Rink has been gone many years
And so has the Imperial Hotel
We said our goodbyes to the Ulster and Frontier
And au re-voir to the Seven Steps as well.

No more will we swim around at McGlynns
And diving we can no longer do,
One breakwater went thats how the money was spent
Oh how I wish we were back with two.
No more will we slide down old Summer Hill
Or play taws in dear old Kings Lane,
Or light fires in good old O’Hare’s Garden
Or in the council field play football again.

Now there’s not many Red Star motor boats left
And it’s sad there’s no more Fairy Queen,
And the old St George it has also gone
No more will they ever be seen.
No more sheep nor cattle or what the bidders might say
On the old Fair Day in the town,
And Tommy Cunninghams stables were packed
As they bedded their horses down.

No more will we gaze into O J Toombs shop
And see Santa with toys sitting there
And poor old sweet dear Maggie-Bon-Bons,
Alas, has long gone from the square.
Now characters in our town we had plenty,
People like Buttons and Pa,
And don’t forget poor Spuddy Morgan,
And dear fun loving old La-De-Dah.

No more will we stop in Frank Hannas shop
And poor Tommy Parkinsons gone,
And no more Patsy O’Hanlon’s store
There’s no one to carry it on.
RG Mathers alas is no more
Nor is poor old Patsy Fitzsimmons,
No more PG Currans grocery store
And no more John Quinns the Milestone.

No more will we browse in dear old Da Wests shop
And enjoy that nice coffee smell,
And no more Joe Duffy’s Delicatessen
And his pies that tasted so swell.
No more Mick McCarthys fruit shop
With his fish and vegetables and more
And no more will we stop in Frank Savage’s shop
Called the Vitamin Provision Store.

No more will we stop in McCabe’s fruit shop
Nor cross the street to dear Bridget Carvills
Nor go on down the street Mrs Heatley to meet
Or cross the square to Mary McCarthys
Our butchers we had four, perhaps we had more
Like Terry O’Neill and dear Matt Griffiths
And dear Jimmy Cummins and old Pokie Ward
Sad to say they’re no longer with us.

Nor more will we stop at Easons Bookshop
Or buy a paper from Patsy McCaugheys
Or fish for crabs as we did as lads,
Down by the old stone jetty.
Alas no more gas from the old Gasworks
Or power from the old Power Station
There isn’t a sign to say there were there
Not even their location.

No more will we have Petty Sessions
No! Not even a Judge or Jury,
No, you cannot say you will be up on the Fair Day
Now your case will be heard in Newry
Now the Harbour Authorities are hard working
And they certainly will cause a severe shock
What eventually happens to our lovely town
When it becomes one big ever growing dock.

The Bridal Loanan alas is no more,
And it’s peacefulness now gone forever,
No more will we sit in a field of sweet grass
And view the lough and green hills of Rostrevor.
The Bee Hotel has also gone,
And Jack Henry’s pub cant be found,
And no more will we see around by the sea,
Frank Champion’s Merry-go-round.

The old huts are gone from Marine Parade,
Of the kiosks at the baths not a mark,
No more ice cream carts nor old jaunting cars
No more pierrots alas in the park.
No more in the Cosmopolitan we’ll eat,
And alas no more Mickey Lee
No more will we wait for the trains to come in,
That brought the girls to Warrenpoint-by-the-sea.

No more Coffeys, Fosters or Newells,
Nor from Hickeys a nice brooch to wear,
No more fresh pastry from Gwenny Dowds bakery,
And Sidney Chew has long gone from the square.
The Burns no longer cut hair
No Jude Smith or dear Mick O’Hare,
No more medicines from Sniffer or Puffer
And no more Rooneys or dear old sweet Huffer.

No more Jacks with his mouth full of tacks,
As he repaired our old boots just like new,
No more dear Vincent whose main interest was newsprint,
And was a fine councillor too.
No more Tommy Caulfield and his sweet sister Nellie,
No more will we buy our coal from John Kelly
No more teachers like Sandy Louie and Jack
No more Jaminsons school and dear Billy Jap.

No more shoe shop with Charlie McGreevy,
No more fruit shop owned by people called Brady,
No more James Murphy’s Mourne Medical Hall
No more McAnultys who made saddles for all.
No more Mrs Bell and her paris bun treats,
And Cowan’s nice toffee when we had coupons for sweets,
No more big builders we had our fair share
Like Carvills and Wilsons and of course F.G.O’Hare.

Of painting contractors we had so many,
Like McGivers and Purdys or was it called Grandys
And dear Henry Peers and of course George McAteers,
But alas nowadays there aren’t any.
No more Post Office with old Mrs Fox,
No more sound from steam cranes in the old Warrenpoint Docks,
No more smuggling tea and sugar galore,
No more Smyths hot lemon from Smyths Bottling Store.

Dear Maises’s shop alas is no more
They even demolished her dear little store
No more Nurse Meehan who gave so much of her life
She was more than just Warrenpoint finest midwife.
No more Leanys or Shaws or Miss Spence
No more to the pictures for just two old pence,
No more the Cookhouse where the soldiers all ate
No more the shipyard with Sam Tate at the gate.

No more Kitty and sweet Alice O’Neill,
No more priests garden and the nice willow tree,
No more in the gallery in the chapel we’ll pray
It’s reserved for the choir now or so they say.
No more will we roll our eggs down Simm’s hill,
Or sleigh in O’Neills field oh what a thrill
No more in the park will we have so much fun
And poor Billy McGarry sure made us run.

No more J.T. Gordon and Matt Doran our musicians,
And old doctor O’Tierney and Gilsenan physicians
Of postmen and dentists I can’t name them all,
But I won’t forget Christy and dear Mr Ball.
Our plumbers I haven’t forgotten don’t worry,
There was Harry Delahunt and old Davy Murray.
Gents outfitters alas who are gone from the square
Are of course Louie Rodgers and dear Teddy O’Hare.

Poor Isa Steenson alas is no more,
She taught music to both girls and boys,
And Tommy Savage will no longer make,
Those well made much loved wooden toys.
No more Vincent Crawford and our worthy Town Clerk,
Who kept our council in hand,
And of course Harry Heather and his musical talents,
And the dear sweet Blue Rhythm Dance Band.

No more football we’ll play at the Brothers,
Or in O’Rahilly Park make our mark,
And the old football field on the Burren Road,
Is now called St.Patrick’s Park.
So much has changed in our town now,
A returned emigrant would endure a great shock,
But her certainly would require some form of sedation
When he sees what they’ll do with our dock.

And now my long story is over, and I hope I did not offend
All the people I mentioned to you now, I would certainly always commend.
They contributed a lot to our town then, they did fare more than their share,
All I ask of you now, is to think of them sometimes with a prayer.
Our poor town has certainly suffered, and maybe we’ve had a few laughs
But I think it’s time the council decided to give us back our swimming baths.
It’s an embarrassment to us as ratepayers,
When we think of what it once was,
It’s not only S.O.S. for our seafront,
But also restoration of our baths is our cause.


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PostPosted: Sun Oct 27, 2013 12:09 pm 
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It appeared back in 2011

http://www.oldwarrenpointforum.com/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=3&t=8858

But good to see it again, and will maybe stir up a few more memories from newer members :D


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PostPosted: Sun Oct 27, 2013 12:14 pm 
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Thanks Brian, do we know who wrote it?


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PostPosted: Sun Oct 27, 2013 12:15 pm 
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I think somebody told me, but can't think off the top of my head - over to the forum members for that one!


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PostPosted: Sun Oct 27, 2013 2:02 pm 
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Wow..........what a long poem........24 verses! Hadn't seen it before and thought when I started reading it that it might be nice to recite it some evening at one of the concerts I occasionally do 'a wee turn' at, though I'm not so sure now! But isn't it so interesting? Lots of names from long, long ago.......some of which I remember from coming here on holiday as a child in the 50s and 60s, others which I wasn't familiar with.
Would love to know who took the trouble to write it. Hopefully we'll find out eventually from some of the more mature members, who, unlike me, were 'born and reared' here! I'm only a 'blow-in' as I didn't arrive permanently till I was in my early twenties............and actually, now that I've 'emigrated' to Cranfield, I'm not quite sure where that leaves my residency status!! Maybe I'll need a visa to come and go! ;--) :getmecoat:


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PostPosted: Thu Oct 31, 2013 3:38 pm 
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Anyone know who wrote this??? :)]


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PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2016 4:16 pm 
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I have it from a very reliable source that this poem was written by Martin Hourican, Burren Road. Up to now the author was unknown but I have amended the title accordingly. If you haven't read it yet please do so, it's brilliant! Thanks Martin!


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PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2016 4:40 pm 
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Really enjoyed reading this...would never
had Marty down as a poet, great effort.

Have to admit it is from my time, and so
many of those mentioned I knew.

All that has gone, I remember so well, and
the Town is poorer for the loss.

Well done, Ritchiemac, for posting and for
tracking down the author.


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