The Ards TT

Here's another photo from my family collection, showing a driver in the Ards TT getting out of his car in Church Street, Newtownards. I think this wee row of houses may have stood at the front of Ards Hospital.

The TT ran from 1928-1936, over 6 hours on a 13.7 mile course which started in Dundonald and proceeded, via Quarry Corner and Bradshaw's Brae to Newtownards, down Church Street and Regent Street, through the Square and on to Comber Square, up Castle Street, on to the Belfast Road to the Elk Inn corner at Dundonald and back up to the starting point.

Unfortunately, I don't know which year our photo was taken, who the driver is, or what kind of car he's driving, although some of the manufacturers represented in the TT were Lea-Francis, Frazer Nash, Lagonda, Bugatti, Alfa-Romeo, Bentley, Mercedes Benz, Talbot, MG Midget, Maserati, Singer, and Delahaye. If anyone can throw any light on the identity of the car or driver pictured, I'd love to hear from you.

It's obvious that Health & Safety hadn't been invented then, as the crowd barrier consists of wooden barrels with string in between. In 1936, one of the cars crashed at the railway bridge (long since demolished) at the bottom of the Belfast Road in Newtownards, killing eight spectators and injuring 40 others. That was the end of The Ards TT.

In June 2003, several of the original TT cars took part in a demonstration drive of three laps of the old course, to mark the 75th anniversary of the TT and a memorial to the TT was unveiled in Conway Square Newtownards in August 2008.

Truth

Here's a wee poem I wrote a few years ago. I must have been feeling all jaded and cynical!

TRUTH

Ye’ll aye fin yins 'at sweer bline Elvis isnae deid ava,

An tha feck o fowk wud mebbe yit houl wi a freat ir twa.

But wushin ir haipin fur simthan, disnae mak it true,

Ye cannae lippen oan aa ye’r telt - maist o ye wud alloo.

Yince A haed a notion A cud quarely lilt a sang,

Til A heared masel, as ithers heared, an foon oot A wus wrang.

Fur a sough o truth blowed in ma lugs - By Sowl, it gunked me sair -

An noo, ootwith tha motor car, ye’ll hear me lilt nae mair.

Sure A shud hae knowed fae Rabbie Burns, tae no growe sic a thocht,

Fur aa his puir Jenny’s fency airs, the’ didnae get her ocht.

Thon hizzie she wus fu o pride, til tha loose craa’d owre her bonnet,

Bot w’ir aa tha yin soo’s pïgs, ye ken, an aye we shud hae mine o’it.

Fur there’s bums an blows ’at get oan like tha Kïngs o Dear knows whaur,

Ir let oan tae be oul hauns, an cannae dae ocht ava.

Whiles ye’ll mebbe hear a whud o sim gulpin cum tae po’er

An muckle heich aboon us growed, wi better yins past owre.

Tha warl’s fu o chates an lee’rs, an there’s boys wud dae thar grannie,

Owre tha heid o a wheen o pun – tak tent, freens, aye be cannie.

But whut gangs aroon wull cum aroon, accordin tae tha saw:

The’ll aa be ketched oot in tha en, by thair ain fowks, ir tha laa.

Writings on North Down, Ards and Strangford Lough

I've drawn up a rough list, which I'm sure is not comprehensive, of creative writers who've made reference to the North Down, Ards and Strangford Lough areas of County Down in either English or Ulster-Scots. The challenge is can you think of the ones I've left out!

Starting with the earliest:

Francis Boyle (c1730 - post 1811) – Local places mentioned in his Miscellaneous Poems (1811) include Gransha, Moneyrea, Comber, the Ards, Gilnahirk, the Stay Brae, the Brenniel [sic], [Crossna]Creevy, Moneyrea, Dundonald, Knock, Drumbo, Lisleen, Ballygow'n, Crossgear, Downpatrick, Donaghadee, Dunover, Mount Pleasant, Meharg's thorn (a local landmark in Gilnahirk) Bangor and Ballygaskin (near Crossgar). Many other places further away in County Down, County Antrim, Scotland and England are also named.

John Meharg – of Gilnahirk - mentions Gransha in his Epistle To Francis Boyle published in Francis Boyle's Miscellaneous Poems (1811).

Andrew McKenzie (1780-1839) of Dunover – Poems And Songs On Different Subjects (1810) - Writes about the Ards Peninsula

Robert Huddleston (1814-1887) – Poems and songs published (1844 and 1846) plus an unpublished novel and unpublished poems and songs. He writes about the Moneyrea area, Comber, Saintfield, Ballygowan, Ards Peninsula and Strangford Lough, Ringneill, Reagh Island, Killinchy etc. Other references include Newtownards, Donaghadee, the Lead Mines, Greyabbey and Mount Stewart.

W G Lyttle (1844-1896) – Betsy Gray, Daft Eddie, Sons Of The Sod and Robin’s Readings are all set in the North Down and Ards area and include references to locations on the Ards Peninsula, Strangford Lough, Newtownards, Tullynagardy Glen etc.

Hugh McWilliams – of Ballysallagh. Two books published in 1816 and 1831. Poems And Songs On Various Subjects (1816) includes topographical references include Crawfordsburn, Bangor, Conlig, Cairn Wood, Clandeboye, Ballysallagh and Portavoe.

George Francis Savage-Armstrong (1845-1906) was born in County Down and was Professor of History and Literature in Queen's College, Cork. He produced two volumes on the history of the Savages of the Ards peninsula (his mother’s family) plus copious amounts of poetry and Ballads Of Down (1901) which included MacAnanty Fairy King Of Scrabo Hill.

Edward Sloan of Conlig - In his poetry book The Bard’s Offering (1854) there is a poem entitled The Lovely Glens Of Crawfordsburn (he dedicated the book to Sharman Crawford who lived at Crawfordsburn House) and in A Farewell he writes of walking through "Pirrie's Grove" (Little Clandeboye at Conlig was owned by William Pirrie) and "gazing upon the shores of Scottish lands".

I'm not famililar with the works of these next three, but have left them in the list to remind me to check them out!

William Cleland - Collection (1838)

William Bleakley of Ballinaskeagh - Moral and Religious Poems (1840)

Robert Gilmore - Collection Of Poems And Songs (1843)

Leslie Alexander Montgomery, aka Lynn Doyle (1873-1961) – He wrote of the Downpatrick area and Strangford Lough

Sam Hanna Bell (1909-1990) – December Bride is mainly set in the Ravara area, but much of the filming took place on Island Taggart and on the Ards Peninsula.

John Stevenson - Bab Of The Percivals (1926) is set on the Ards Peninsula and Two Centuries Of Life In Down (1920) while not fiction, includes a lot on North Down, Ards and Strangford.

Margaret Norris - Glenreeba (1939) is actually Greyabbey

J S Andrews (born 1934) - The Bell Of Nendrum (1969) is set in and around Strangford Lough

Van Morrison (born 1945) – The song Coney Island (from his 1989 album Avalon Sunset) mentions Shrigley, Killyleagh, the Lecale, Downpatrick, Ardglass and St John’s Point as well as Coney Island, which is a headline between Ardglass and Killough. The Song A Sense Of Wonder (from the album A Sense Of Wonder 1985) mentions Newtownards, Comber, Gransha and the Ballystockart Road.

Michael McLaverty (1904-1992) - Buried at Kilclief, Strangford – Wrote about Strangford Lough.

Michael Faulkner – wrote about his experiences living with his wife in a cabin on Islandmore on Strangford Lough in The Blue Cabin (2006)

Seamus Heaney (born 1939) – Even “Famous Seamus” refers to “Strang and Carling Fjords” (Strangford and Carlingford) in his poem Funeral Rites.

Joe Tomelty (1910 -1995) was born in Portaferry. Although better known as a film and stage actor and for BBC Radio’s The McCooey’s, Joe Tomelty also wrote novels and plays. Two of his plays, All Soul’s Night and April In Assagh are set in a fictional village on the County Down coast and another, Idolatry at Innishargie, on the Ards Peninsula.

Basil Abbott - Norfolk man Basil, whose mother is from Newtownards, recently produced a short play entitled Scrape The Beetle about the Flush Hall murder (of Willie Quinn) which took place in Newtownards in 1915. A CD of this is also available.

Colin Bateman (born 1962) – The novel Divorcing Jack (1998) is partly set in Bangor Market (although the film version uses Lemon's Wharf in Donaghadee as the location).

Captain James Moore writes of Portavogie and the County Down fishing industry.

I'm sure there are also numerous other references in songs. The Flower Of The County Down mentions Scrabo Hill, Lisnadill, Comber etc and The Greba Lasses is from Greyabbey. Then, of course, there are the Orange songs like The Hills Of Carrowdore and The Bright Orange Heroes of Comber.

Not forgetting Hamewarks Fae Ballyboley: The Cless O 2004:
Philip Robinson writes about The Dominie O Ballyboley Schuil;
John Wright writes of Donaghadee, Ballyvester and Millisle;
Jack Thompson mentions Carrowdore;
Sheena McCullough mentions Ballyboley school;
Fiona McDonald writes of Newtownards, the Ards, Bangor and Loughriescouse;
Will McAvoy writes of Mid-Isle on Strangford Lough;
Will Cromie writes of the Ards Peninsula; and
Noel Moore mentions Portavogie and Ballyboley;

First Newtownards BB Company Flute Band

A bit of local history for a change. A couple of years ago, I came across a load of old negatives among family papers so I scanned a few and Photoshopped them to get the positive images. This one shows First Newtownards BB Company Flute Band. As there's a train in the background, it was probably taken at Newtownards Railway Station, on the Belfast & County Down Railway (BCDR). I think the writing on the carriage door may say "Third" (Class).

To the best of my knowledge, this BB Band was the forerunner of First Newtownards Old Boys' Flute Band (founded in 1919) which, in turn, was the forerunner of Newtownards Silver Band (founded in 1923). If anyone knows otherwise, please let me know.

Tha Puddocks Return

We hae jist seen tha puddocks in oor wee pond theday so Spring 'ull no be owre lang cumin noo!

Epistle To Francis Boyle - By John Meharg

Here's another early example of Ulster-Scots poetry - Gilhahirk poet, John Meharg's Epistle To Francis Boyle, published in Boyle's Miscelleous Poems (1811).


EPISTLE TO FRANCIS BOYLE
By John Meharg

Dear Frank, it lang was in my view,
To write a verse or twa to you,
We Poets, poor discernin' few,
Love ane anither,
Wi' heart an' saul, an' far mair true
Than money a brither.
Let warly sons o' men combine,
An' gather gowd to mak them shine,
At this, dear Frank, we'll ne'er repine,
E'en let them gae;
We'll sing our joys in hamely rhyme,
On some burn brae.
How sweetly do the moments pass,
Aye whan our theme's a bonny lass,
Or wi' a frien', out owre a glass
O' gin or rum!
The sordid, grov'lin, miser ass,
May there sing dumb.

But as for riches what care I,
Sic low pursuits the Bards deny,
An' Fortune's frowns they will defy,
While e'er the Muse,
Will with their wishes kind comply,
An' no refuse.

An' yet my rhymes are unco rough,
As owre a country e'er did sugh,
They hardly please mysel' eneugh,
As aft's I read them;
But spun by ane frae loom or pleugh,
Nae man will heed them.

An' sae, my much respected friend,
I'll ne'er presume, nor yet pretend,
Wi' you in verses to contend,
For wit or theme,
Na, na, I ken that it wad end
In my great shame.

Your verses rin as true an' fine,
As if the Muses did combine,
Apollo an' tunefu' Nine,
To raise your name,
An' roun' your brow a wreath entwine,
O' endless fame.

In Grenshaw townland may you sing,
Till a' the hills an' vallies ring,
An' whan the Winter's owre, an' Spring
Begins to dawn,
Your Fancy yet shall spread her wing,
Out owre the lawn.

Aft hae I wish'd an' hope't to see,
Yet mony a year afore I die,
Your verses fill'd sae fu' o' glee,
In grandeur paintit,
Wi' ae request o' mine agree -
An' get them prentit.

An' let the warl' ken your name,
An' sons unborn exalt your fame,
An' narrow-minded men think shame
If ony reads,
Your torch o' satire, like a flame,
To show their deeds!

An' whan ye're mouldrin' i' the clay,
The stranger that shall pass the way,
Will to your dwallin' homage pay
An' spier the where,
Some frien' o' thine will point an' say -
"The Bard lived there."

But as for me, I needna think
E'er to appear in prent or ink,
For folk to read, then laugh an' wink,
An' cock their nose,
An' tauntin', say, "It disna clink
"Like verse or prose."

But what care I? e'en let them say;
Whan in the bonny month o' May,
On some burn side I'll lonely stray,
Whar nane shall hear,
An' chant to her my rustic lay,
I love sae dear.

O Love! O Life! O Friendship dear!
'Tis you I court, 'tis you I fear
All cares are drown'd when you are near,
In seas o' pleasure;
Ye Powers Divine, while I am here,
Be these my treasure!

"But Johnie, stap, ye're yet a boy,
Know, Beauty's but a fleetin' toy,
An' love's a momentary joy,
That soon will pass,
It will your inward peace destroy,
Ye simple Ass.

For all these joys will pass away,
When Age shall come, life's winter day,
An' firmest friendship will decay;
My son, good night."
Erato thus to me did say,
Then took her flight.

My bosom heav'd, I gave a sigh,
As after her I cast my eye,
Until her flight she winged on high,
Out o' my sight,
An' reach'd her distant kindred sky,
'Mang orbs o' light.

Sae now, dear Frank, my Muse is gane,
Which causes me a kin' o' pain;
But aiblins she'll return again,
An' wi' me dwell;
An' daut me like a sukin' wean;
Sae, frien', farewell.

The Magic X - by James Mullan

Here’s an early 20th century poem by James Mullan, The Drumsurn Bard (aka "Yung Han") describing the goings-on prior to elections in those days. Drumsurn is a village between Dungiven and Limavady, in County Londonderry.

Anybody who thinks poetry is for cissies would do well to remember there are plenty of folk who get worked up about it. Another local rhymer, by the name of Sandy Bond, held different political views to Mullan on the issue of Home Rule during the 1906 local elections. Bond made reference to Mullan in a poem about the election and the next time the two met in Limavady there was a bit of a fight which resulted in a court case, during which Bond’s poem was read out in evidence. Bond was fined 21 shillings, two other defendants were fined five shillings and the rest were discharged.

I thought at first that one of those fined, Samuel Irwin, was a relative of mine, but my one came from a different townland, so there must have been more than one about the town at the time.

The Magic X

I’m nae great scholar, ye man ken,
I micht coont up the length o’ ten,
I’m sure, but no a hunner.
My buiks hae a’ been real leeve men,
But I can tell a mak preten,
An’ make’ nae blunner.

But in my stammerin’s up an’ doon,
Sometimes ‘mang drains, sometimes in toon,
No lang in ony place.
I kept my ees a-glowerin’ roon
An foon three letters esteamed aboon
The alphabetic race.

Writ in succession, L.S.D.
A’hint yer name, ye hae a key
Wad open ony door.
Nae maiter what be yer disgrace,
They’ll aye fin’ ane redeemin’ grace,
Mair likely three or four.

Anither ane runs in the race,
Wi’ some I ken it taks first place,
Whan writ wi’ a big capital
I am the man; I panned the shirt.
Bar I the rest of folks is dirt,
Creation jest a nil.

But there’s a time I’m heartily gled,
Whan X can mak a bit I’ red,
An’ earn its slice o’ favour.
Since they hae gaen an X tae me,
Even the very wee drap o’ tea,
I gets a better flavour.

The candidates wee Rab the meit
They gae him lots o’ cakes an’ sweets,
An’ spiers, “What wye’s yer faither?”
I’ve aft been ca’d a rhaming mule,
An obstinate, dannared, dunnered fool
An’ sometimes worse than either.

The wife got twa new pair o’ stays,
She weirs nane noo, sure onyways;
Aince roon her waist twice roon the church,
Ye’d sweir it wuz a wee earthquake,
The wey the auld four-poster shakes,
When Jean begins tae turn.

Noo a’ the beasts aboot the hoose,
(Of coorse they didna see the singin’ moose)
They maun be gae well bred,
One ca’d the coo an astrahan;
The three legged cat, real Persian,
I doot she wuz misled.

My han’s been twisted, pu’d an’ rung,
Tae I thocht the shoulder bled had sprung;
I canna haud ane fur,
Whitewashed I wuz wi’ every grace;
They ca’d me tae my very face,
Honoured, respected sir.

Noo, I dinna ken if twuz Gledstone,
Oliver Cromill, or Wolf Tone,
An X pair bodies gaen,
But my blessin’ on his auld grey heed;
If he’s alive, sin’ if he’s deid,
I’ll pray that he’s aboon.

But I ken richt weel if the A.B.C.
Wuz stocks and shares, my £, s, d,
I wad invest in X’s,
An’ sell at the election time,
Then emigrate tae sum far clime,
Whar the’r nae rates or texes.