Ireland - Comhaltas Archive

TREOIRThe King of West Clare(A lament for the lateJohn Kelly)AirThe King of West Clare, or John Kelly the King of West Clare was written byPaddy Tunney as a lament for his dear friend the never-to-be forgotten JohnKelly of Rehy in West Clare and later of Cape I Street, Dublin. Listening toPaddy sing it again recently I felt that John himself would have been pleasedwith this fine tribute. The words, - without the air, which is that of an oldNorthern song called The Flower of Gortade' - were published in Treoir No. 21989. Here now are the words and music 'for all to sin' as the old saying goes.Lie low larks and linnets you storm-cocks and thrushesDon't flutter a wing round the Ailwee CaveYou wild-whistling blackbirds abandon the bushesWhile we bring great John Kelly in grief to the graveThe Three Waves of Erin they thunder uproariousWith weeping and wailing banshees fill the airAs we mourn in Glasnevin that minstrel so gloriousThe high priest of music and the King of West Clare.We'll miss you in Milltown at the summer Scoil EigseIn memory of Clancy, the piper supremeWhere you reigned in the Back Room with Ryan and CaseyAnd music flowed pure as the clear mountain streamThey'll mourn you with sad reels in famed KilfenoraThey'll toast you in Tulla while Canny rules thereWith Brian the Brave once of storied KincoraYour name is enshrined as the King of West ClareYou played with 6 Riada in Ceolt6irf ChualannAnd raised bardic standards this country all roundWith noble Noel Hill and the Russells from DoolinThroughout the 'Oul Banner' your name will resoundFor your rich repartee, wit and wisdom provokingWe'll be waiting in vain by the bard's vacant chairAnd those legends and tales lofty memories evokingOh! mighty John Kelly, the King of West Clare.When you reach Heaven's gates Peter won't check credentialsHe' ll wave on your chariot with honour and prideHe knows you've got much more than just bare essentialsThe troubadour monarch whose fame's far and wideMick Coleman will meet you; Gillespie will greet youSaying. You're welcome John Kelly; just sound me your AKilloran will face you and Morrison grace youAs you bow with Cree's masetro* The Queen of the May.* Cree's maestro - the late Patrick Kelly of Cree~iJlg rr J )13I) ~ i~J.flIJJjj)4 jLie low larks and linnets you storm cocks and thrushes, don't flutter a wing round theAil-a-wee Cave. You wild-whistling blackbirds a-bandon the bush~,while webring great John Kel y. in grief to the grave. The Three Waves of Erin they,thunder uproarious with weeping and wailina banshee" fill the ;1 ir;1" weKing of West Clare.J/1