The Castle of
Dromore
County
Kerry - Ireland
June 1, 2007
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I used to sing The Castle of
Dromore to little Bridget as I
rocked her. She was a child that Dan
and I fostered while we waited for
adoption to be finalized. Her
birth mother was a 16 year old drug
user who supported the habit through
prostitution, pimped by a 45 year
old boyfriend.
It was so easy to love
Bridget. She was bright though
understandably tentative. But soon
she began to trust us and was
especially receptive to being rocked
and sung to. Over and over I sang
The Castle of Dromore as I rocked
her. The song has
verses that tell of a castle with
gardens that a child is encouraged
to play in ... to thrive in ... The
verses end with the phrase Hush a
bye loo, lo loo, lo lie; Hush a bye
loo, lo loo.
The song sustains some haunting
themes as it describes the October
winds lamenting around the castle
with its lofty halls. It also speaks
of spirits over the Black Water
with a banshee (profit of death)
screaming, and a parent
begging the Virgin Mary for pity and
protection letting no harm come to
"my helpless babe and me." In the
end, the verses tell the child to
take time to thrive in the gardens
of Dromore for now is the time to
rest. Later there will be plenty of
work to do.
The lyrics are said to be written by
Harold Boulton, (lyric writer of
Skye Boat Song) who visited the
Castle of Dromore in the first years
o the twentieth century. He was
evidently a friend of Harold Mahony,
Olympic silver medalist and
Wimbledon Champion and the last
Mahony male to own the Castle of
Dromore. After his untimely death in
a bicycle accident in 1905, the
castle passed into the hands of
various relations, none of whom
cared much for the castle.
The lyrics of the song are as
follows:
The October winds lament around
the castle of Dromore
Yet peace lies in her lofty halls,
my loving treasure store
Though autumn leaves may droop and
die, the bud of spring are you
Sing hushabye loo, low loo, low lie.
Hushabye loo, low loo
Dread spirits over the of black
water, Clan Owen's wild banshee
Bring no ill wind to him nor us, my
helpless babe and me
And Holy Mary pitying us to Heaven
for grace doth sue
Sing hushabye loo, low loo, low lie.
Hushabye loo, low loo
Take time to thrive, my ray of
hope, in the gardens of Dromore
Take heed, young eaglet, till thy
wings are feathered fit to soar
A little rest and then the world is
full of work to do
A little rest and then the world is
full of work to do
On June 1, 2000, just before we were
to secure the adoption, Bridget's
mother withdrew her consent and
unexpectedly arrived at our home and
took the child away with the help of
the local police department, who
were unaware of the pending adoption.
Evidently, the mother needed to
prove that she had the
responsibility of a child to take
care of in order to skip being sent
to jail on a prostitution and drug
charge in Florida. Once they took
Bridget across state lines, she was
lost to us forever.
I couldn't bear to hear the song
anymore. But I was still touched by
it. The visuals my imagination
created as I sang it to Bridget
still hung with me.
When preparing for this year's trip
to Ireland, I knew I'd be traveling
to Kerry near the real Castle of
Dromore. Though it isn't known as a
"thin place" and not on the agenda
of sites for this visit, I
hoped I'd be able to see it. I did a
little research and found that it
was privately owned and being
restored. The castle was designed by
Cork architect, Sir Thomas Dean and
built in 1839 for Denis Mahony,
grandfather of Harold (tennis
player). Denis was a minister for
the Church of Ireland who operated a
soup kitchen at the castle during
the potato famine.
I found information on the location
of the Castle on the Internet and
tucked it away in case I had time
for a short visit while I was in the
Kerry / West Cork region. It wasn't
too far out of my way. I turned off
the main road at the castle
gatehouse - also designed by Sir
Thomas Dean - and followed the roads
to the Castle. The signage warned
that it was private property so I
was reluctant to approach. I decided
to offer the owner or resident my
business card with my outline of the
Thin Places project and ask
permission to view the grounds - in
hope of including the Castle in the
book.
The owner wasn't on site, but the
superintendent overseeing the
renovations was present and agreed
to allow me to look around and take
a few pictures once I presented my
card and outline. I was grateful.
The renovations being done are
remarkable and extensive. The castle
sits high on a hill overlooking the
Kenmare river with a terraced lawn
and stone steps leading down to the
river. An arched window dominates
the south face of the castle.
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The gardens of Dromore
mentioned in the song are behind the
castle. The bones of an orchard,
terraced gardens and stone buildings
still remain within the garden
walls. It's easy to see why Boulton
would write ... "take time to thrive,
my ray of hope, in the gardens of
Dromore."
You can imagine theses
gardens in their day of walled
protection being a safe haven,
always ripe with new discoveries for
children.
When I made my last round of the
property, I noticed the old tennis
court. I had read in my Internet
research that Harold Mahony's tennis
court was in the area of the gardens
- but it isn't. The old tennis court
(now unused for 100 years) overlooks
the Kenmare river. It's ever so
subtle - grown over with grass
blending into the rolling, terraced
lawn - outline with metal stakes
(see picture below.)
A great sadness came over me
as I past Harold's abandoned tennis
court. I felt tears come into
my eyes and I couldn't understand
why ... I still don't know really,
but I know I was close to
something... something sad.
The Castle of Dromore is a thin
place - though a privately owned
one, and I don't recommend others
trespass or intrude upon the owner's
private quarters. The castle can be
seen well from the Kenmare River,
and I hope the owner isn't offended
by my discussing his property
publicly in this blog.
On June 1, 2005 I witnessed the
births of my twin granddaughters
Mia
and Grace. They were born exactly
five years (to the day) after
Bridget left us. I'm back to singing
and rocking - this time twice as
much - and yes, I'm singing The
Castle of Dromore to these little
girls. It doesn't hurt anymore. I'll
never forget Bridget or stop loving
her, but
Mia and Grace have made
remembering her easier.
I'm glad Harold Boulton visited
Harold Mahony at the Castle of
Dromore - and glad he wrote those
lyrics. I wonder if he imagined how
far his simple verses would reach or
how many he would touch - children,
mothers, lovers of Irish music? I'm
glad that Bridget made the song come
alive for me, and glad that images
the song burned in my imagination
led me to visit the Castle and led
me to write about it here. The
pictures will be something I can
show Mia and Grace when they get a
little older and tell them how I've
been to the real Castle of Dromore.
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