Remembering …..

Everywhere we look or listen this week, there have been reminders of the Titanic and, more tragically, its sinking one hundred years ago this night (14th April).  I just had Mass in Urlaur and, by way of reflection and remembrance, shared a song I like a lot. It was written by Johnny McEvoy and tells of a meeting on the docks in Cobh between a young man and a newly married couple who were setting sail for New York.  The teller of the story in song felt a sense of envy but also the need to wish the couple every  good wish as they set out in search of their dream.  There was however, a sound in the air, that left a question ……

We think of all the John Williams and their wives, of sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers who shared that journey and possibly a dream.  A hundred years has passed but it’s important to remember.  Johnny McEvoy does well on that front.  We’ll remember with him …..

When last I saw John Williams, a young man full of pride
His lovely bride of just four days was standing by his side
He smiled and took me by the hand, saying “Boyo can’t you see
I’ve seen the last of windswept bogs and bogs the last of me!
And the peelers and the land
lords and the risings of the moon
And if ever I return again, ’twill be too bloody soon”
 
Rich man, poor man, beggar man, wife
Sailed away into the night
Where they’ll wind up no-one knows
Round and round the story goes
 
He said “I’ll go and take my chance in far off New York Town
For they say there’s lots of work there and a good man’s not put down
And with my lassie by my side we’ll build a better home
And when the sea trip’s over lads we never more will roam”
So we said farewell upon the quay, there was nothing left to do
But to pray for John and his lovely bride, that their dreams
might all come true
 
How I envied you, John Williams, and your lovely fair haired bride
To be sailing on that mighty ship across the ocean wide
For she’s the finest liner, that was ever built by man
And they say there’s naught can sink her, no not even God’s own hand
Man’s pride can be his own downfall, that big ship sailed form home
And I thought I heard the banshee cry, and it chilled me to the bone
Rich man, poor man, beggar man, wife
Sailed away into the night
Where they’ll wind up no-one knows
Round and round the story goes
Round and around the icebergs flow.
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