A Biddy Ballad

A local man who was dressed as a Biddy frightened another man’s wife and it ended up in court. Domhnall a’ Chasúir who was a steward at the Petty Sessions Court, said that it was an old custom to go around with the Biddy on that day (1st February). The magistrate, Dónaillín Ó Conaill, as he is called in the account, said “Oh, I see, as long as it is an old custom I dismiss the case.” The singer’s brother and another fellow who were both involved in the incident composed the song.

This song was recorded by Tadhg Ó Murchú in 1944 from Áine Ní Shúilleabháin of Mhuiríoch Mhór in the parish of Dromid in the 83rd year of her life.

Source: National Folklore Collection UCD

It was on the first day of February

I prepared for a frolic’o

To go in recreation I took with me a bag

I walked straight to Mary’s house

 And up to Beitheachán Uachtarach

Around to Béal-Atha-Choch

And to the old road est (east)

At the end of my peregrinations

Not knowing no animosity

By any bad neighbour called

Pill Garlic a’tobac (Gearaltach)

I went to his cabin door with

The greatest felicity

And as polite as I could be

I produced my little bag.

Sé críoch mo scéal é gur

Lean sé mé go feargach

Is dúirt sé mar a bhfanfainn leis

Go mbeadh aige mo chorp

Go gcuirfeadh sé rop a phíce

Isteach i mbun mo bhoilg-se

Is go gcaithinn-se gan bhuíochas

Fanúint leis ansan.

Do cuimhníos ar a saol úd

Gur bhun liom lúth is gaisce

Is do tháinig orm bochtanas

Is ghreadas uaigh go tuibh

Do chuireas fés na sléibhte

Is do léimeas uaidh go hacmhainneach

Is fé bhun na hEisce Leithne

Do bhaineas uaidh a’ cnoc

This brute being nearly jaded

He wanted more assistance’o

He called on the McCrohan’s

And their two or three cur dogs

They chased me around the mountains

And down to my old residence

And into an outhouse

Where I made it my den

Then the following morning

He swore before the magistrate

That I came (disguised and) painted

To rape his little wench

But in sure the world knows

It wasn’t my intention’o

I only took a frolic

For my heart was full of mirth.

May the woods deny him shelter

And the heaven of God

May the mange of his sheep

Take root in his whiskers

An’ the wife go bare naked

About the bacach’s bag

After dismissing the case

And making him a perjurer

I called the boys along with me

And we went straight away to drink

I’ll have Francis Downey with a civil action

And I’ll surely banish him

From that ghostly old spot

That I may see the day

That I’ll tune up my fiddle’o

And resound the mountain

Around my little cot:

The green fields of Éirinn

I will play with great experiment

And the day I went begging

To old Muiris a’ Tobac.