A regular feature on traditional songs of County Wexford. This week: Mullannagaun

Allow me a little artistic licence to cross the border into Carlow and include a song here which records an incident that occurred during the War of Independence on April 21 in 1921.

Besides, the song is written by a Wexfordman, Nicky Fleming of New Ross. I learned this song to perform it as part of a 1916 Rising commemorative concert of traditional song and tour in Rathanna, Co. Carlow which took place on New Year’s Eve 31st December 2016 called ‘The Seeds were Well Planted’.

This concert featured traditional singers from all over Ireland as well as Wexford’s own Paddy Berry, Paul O’Reilly and Niall Wall. Michael Fortune, who initiated the project, collected the song from Ellie Cummins, Ballymurphy in Oct ‘16 and passed it onto me. Ellie, now in her nineties, remembers the words from the singing of her father and brother. The song recounts an incident in the townsland of Mullannagaun, near Ballymurphy, where the local IRA company from South Carlow, under the command of Michael Faye, were ambushed by the Crown forces.

Faye was a Rathvilly native and fought in the British army in Flanders in 1916. Like many, he joined the IRA on his return. Three others were also killed that day, two young men James and Peter Farrell who were Ellie’s second cousins and an old man called Michael Ryan who was going to the well for water. The column was informed upon (by a man known as Boyle or Finn from Co. Wexford) and Faye was singled out in particular, as he was ex-British army.

We undertook a tour of historic sites in the locality as part of the project which included the spot in the field where it is remembered the two young Farrell brothers fell. Here I sang the song, standing on the same ground as those men had on that fateful day and shared a unique experience of commemoration with the small, mostly local audience. I will never forget the power of sharing that song in that place with an audience among whom memories, grief and personal associations were all awakened.

Mullannagaun

Words: Nicky Fleming Air: Traditional

From Flanders plain across the main, there came a soldier bold, Who changed his mind, a place to find, beneath the green and gold. In England’s war he fought ‘til o’er and his name it was Michael Faye, By Barrow’s banks he joined the ranks, the ranks of the IRA. Ere the fight began he went on the run and he sought for the hills to hide, But here and there bullets in the air made Fay and his men abide, To Mullannagaun, from Bagenalstown, they came at dead of night, And they quietly crept while the people slept to a place that they thought was right. By the traitors hand who defiled our land those rebels were soon betrayed, And forces of the crown came swiftly down and the guns of those men did raid, It bein’ out in the air they were taken unaware, sure they ran for their lives through the bog, But Faye he stood and they cried for his blood, he was butchered like a dog. What bullets didn’t do bayonets cut him through and ‘tis said be it true or not, That Faye for his life, like a man did fight, and two of the foes he shot. The sun on sky, went swiftly by, that noon at Mullanangaun, While the victim lay on the blood sprinkled clay, they hunted his comrades down. They searched all round, ‘til four they found, and the rest with their lives got away. Though their hearts were glad, they were soon made sad, when they heard of the death of Faye. All wrapped in white, in the church all night, the corpse of the youth lay still, And those who stayed, they wept and prayed, saying “Blessed by his Holy will.” On some future day where Faye met his fate, we will build on that gloomy spot, A monument of fame and we’ll write beside his name that his death on this earth ‘twas our loss, Oh Mullannagaun every heart in this town will tremble at the thoughts of this day, When the bullets like rain brought death and pain to more than Michael Faye. Two brothers young, who did no wrong, they were shot in the line of fire. As the corn they did sow they were soon laid low and together those brothers did expire. An old man too, it was little he knew as he wended his way to the well, As he stooped for water in that place of slaughter with a bullet in his head he fell. “I’m dyin’, I’m dyin’,” said that old man Ryan and no neighbours to his aid could go, ‘Til his son so brave ventured out to save and hastened to the well below, His fears were least he rushed for the Priest and awful indeed was his plight, For his father he died at the well beside and it gave yet another sad sight. I blame for the fray on that awful day, the hand of the traitor Boyle Who for England’s gold on those good men told as they fought for freedom of our Isle, And oh to Heaven let a prayer be given for those who were shot by the crown, But the memory of that day will ne’er pass away in the homes of Mullannagaun.