Cathair Saidhbhín
( Air “Moses Ritooralalooralalay.” )
In the spring of 1906, an instructress was sent by the Kerry County Council to give a cookery course in Cahirciveen. She was a native of Munster, but she would not allow her intending pupils to sign their names in Irish on the register, and when they refused to give a meaningless English translation of the names they had always borne, she became enraged and insulted them, with the result that fourteen Cáiliní left the class-room. The instructress was soon afterwards removed to another district and was ordered by the County Council to take the names of the pupils in future in Irish whenever they were submitted to her .This song was first published in ‘Voices of Banba 1907.’ The air attributed to it in the publication is ‘Moses Ritooralalooralalay’.
Ach éist liom a chaired, is brónach mo scéal,
That vulgar inventionj called Teanga na nGael,
Has ruffled the temper and altered the mien,
Of a charming young lady in Cathair Saidhbhín.
Curfá
Ochón sé mo bhrón! Olagón! Aililliu!
The fat’s in the fire and we’re all in a stew;
If you call yourself Máire or Cáit or Eibhlín,
You can’t boil potatoes in Cathair Saidhbhín.
Such names should be kept in their places you know,
On the hills and the bogs, with the vulgar and low;
They should never be spoken or written or seen,
In a cookery classroom in Cathair Saidhbhín.
Curfá
Ochón sé mo bhrón! Olagón! Aililliu!
The fat’s in the fire and we’re all in a stew;
If you call yourself Máire or Cáit or Eibhlín,
You can’t bake a pancake in Cathair Saidhbhín.
‘Tis foolish, ridiculous, childish, absurd,
And something else too but I can’t find the word,
To talk about Irish or anything mean
In the presence of “gentry” in Cathair Saidhbhín.
Curfá
Ochón sé mo bhrón! Olagón! Aililliu!
The fat’s in the fire and we’re all in a stew;
If you call yourself Máire or Cáit or Eibhlín,
Well you can’t scour saucepans in Cathair Saidhbhín.
Those rude Gaelic leaders alone have the cheek,
Although they seem gentle enough ‘till they speak,
To drag in philology flavoured with spleen,
And mix it with pastry in Cathair Saidhbhín.
Curfá
Ochón sé mo bhrón! Olagón! Aililliu!
The fat’s in the fire and we’re all in a stew;
If you call yourself Máire or Cáit or Eibhlín,
Well you won’t find a husand in Cathair Saidhbhín.
The Irish revival is growing too strong,
Spite of Bryce and of Birrell and Starkey and Long,
And I hear for a fact that a Kerry cailín,
Can cook without English in Cathair Saihbhín.
Curfá
Ochón sé mo bhrón! Olagón! Aililliu!
There’s one thing I all most forgot to tell you,
If you call yourself Máire or Cáit or Eibhlín,
You can frizzle a seoinín in Cathair Saidhbhín.