Lovely Sweet Filemore

The composer of this song is said to be a man by the name of Bowler, who came from Derreenmoira (Dirreen moira). It is thought to have been written circa 1880. It has been a popular song in the oral tradition, and is still sung in the area to this day. Various versions have been collected by Binneas from recordings, singers and in handwritten form. The compiler of a collection of songs in an oral tradition is always faced with the problem of which version to include in the final manuscript. One must almost get in side the mind of the composer. Attention must be paid to rhythmic meter, linguistic style and the flow of the song from the start to its conclusion. The researcher should always seek out those with local knowledge to bear on the composition. The song below represents a combination of all the collected versions

‘Tis far away I am today in exile o’er the foam,

My thoughts do stray both night and day to the dear old friends at home,

A spot so fair its equal rare no matter where you roam,

Are the rippling rills and high green hills of lovely sweet Filemore.

Oh’ mother dear with love sincere I think of you tonight,

With pen in hand in a foreign land these lines to you I write,

My low thatched cot I ne’er forgot though the years have rolled o’er,

Since I bid adieu to my love and you, in lovely sweet Filemore.

Unto Lisbawn before the dawn, you can hear the horn sound,

And to the call both one and all the beagles gathered ‘round.

Each craggy height, oh what a sight and the station down below,

With love I gaze on those bygone days in Lovely sweet Filemore.

To Teeromoyle it is worthwhile for a huntsman there to stray,

Its mountains brown to run [look] around for a wild goose, grouse or hare,

Each craggy height, oh what a sight and the valley down below,

*Make me look back on boyhood’s track to lovely sweet Filemore.

 [*And the river Fertha glides and slides through lovely sweet Filemore]

To Cahir a Trush from bush to bush, the birds do sweetly sing,

Their homage pay both night and day to God their heavenly king,

*The Cahir, fair, and there it stands with roses crowning o’er

               While the river glides with murmuring sides through lovely sweet Filemore.

[*And to Ballinahown and there it stands with the meadows crowning o’er,]

And to the mill sure my heart goes still, for the pleasant days they’ve been,

To the fiddler’s tune with the light of the moon, we danced upon the green,

Our hearts were light as the moon shone bright on the river down below,

And homewards strayed at the break of day, to lovely sweet Filemore.

To Cahersiveen, I have often been to many a race and fair,

With laugh and chat about this and that, those evenings bright and fair,

I don’t mean to boast with many a toast and the bumpers flowing o’er,

We drank their health and wished them wealth, the maids of sweet Filemore.

Oh Molly Bawn from dark to dawn you are ever on my mind,

Your matchless face of modest gaze, you are fit to be a queen,

I am going to sail across the main to the land beyond the foam,

And with loving pride make you my bride in lovely sweet Filemore.