PADDY KAVANAGH'S WHORE

Ronnie Drew performed this song regularly, about the poet and song writer Patrick Kavanagh. Paddy wrote the song about himself, on how he should be remembered when he died.




The article in the link below proclaims Hilda O'Malley as the inspiration of the Patrick Kavanagh song Raglan Road.

http://www.irishidentity.com/extras/gaels/stories/hildaomalley.htm

I have been accused by an Fear Rua in rather personal terms of insulting both Kavanagh and O'Malley. Aside from the fact that I do not accept that O'Malley is the person in question, I have found that prostitutes are among the finest women I have ever met. I say women because I have not employed the services of male prostitutes yet. They say, never say never but in this instance it is highly unlikely, unless of course modern surgery deceives me.

@IrishBlog I always listen to the song properly
about 21 hours ago from web in reply to IrishBlog

@IrishBlog Kavanagh said it himself. Many times
about 21 hours ago from web in reply to IrishBlog
says read An Moltóir's interesting analysis of Galway's win over Clare in senior hurling - http://bit.ly/UfpRc
9:49 AM Jul 16th from web

9:28 AM Jul 16th from web
@IrishBlog Read this you twit... ter... http://www.irishidentity.co...
2:17 AM Jul 16th from web in reply to IrishBlog
@IrishBlog You're wrong. You're insulting Kavanagh and Hilda O'Malley, the woman in the song. Plus making a complete ass of yourself.


So who we may ask is the prostitute that inspires Kavanagh in this beautiful song. I believe the whore in question is to be found in the following link. When Britain withdrew from Ireland, its first of numerous colonies world wide, it ensured it left behind an obedient client state, as it did with all its colonies and it taught the Americans how do the same in a neo colonial way, as in Iraq today promoting division and civil war as one of its tools brutality. Dublin 4 was a critical part of the obedient client free State of southern Ireland as is Stormont today in the northern part of occupied Ireland.

This is the link to where Kavanagh's whore can be found. I hope our friend the Fear Rua reads it more carefully than he has read or listened to the lines of Kavanagh's song.

The O'Malley name has profound respect in the west of Ireland. From Ernie O'Malley's the rebel's family in Mayo to the O'Malley's of Limerick. Indeed a certain Grace O'Malley ruled the west coast of Ireland for many decades as the British feared her incessant "piracy". She is held in the same reverence as Roisin Dubh, Grainneuaille, Sile Na Ghig, etc,. who were not all, I assure you were nuns, fortunately.

Here I present to you, Paddy Kavanagh's or the Monaghan boy's whore.

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http://www.thedubliner.ie/the_dubliner_magazine/2007/04/baggotonia.html

Raglan Road can be found on the IrishBlog link sung by Luke Kelly who performed for many years with Ronnie Drew in the Dubliners.


Brian Clarke | Create your badge

Raglan Road - Love Affair with a Prostitute by Patrick Kavanagh

Failte, this is my favourite song, its by Patrick Kavanagh. His poetry is famous, among other things, for explaining the power, the Catholic Church had over every aspect of people's lives. This is a love song of a man who fell in love with a prostitute.






Patrick Kavanagh (Irish: Pádraig Caomhánaigh) (21 October 1904 – 30 November 1967) was an Irish poet and novelist. He is regarded as one of the leading poets of the 20th Century, and his best known works include the novel Tarry Flynn and the song On Raglan Road. A song about a love affair with a prostitute. His work can best be described as detailed accounts of rural Irish life and religion in Ireland.








Raglan Road

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.

-- Patrick Kavanagh


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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Kavanagh