The Cahersiveen Races

Sigerson Clifford (1913-1985)

Sigerson Clifford was born in Cork City of Kerry parents in l913. At the age of two he moved with his family to Cahersiveen. His descriptive powers capture in his ballads and poems the characters and beauty of the area. The races in Cahersiveen are an annual event held on land at Carhan, donated by Daniel O’Connell. The event has taken place annually since 1852. Prior to this annual event, racing was popular in the area. An article in The Kerry Evening Post 14th September 1850, tells us of races a few days earlier on the Inny Strand:

“The Iveragh Races, as advertised in our columns, came off on Tuesday, on the beautiful strand of Iny(Inny). The scene was a perfect picture, more striking, if possible than that which presented itself to our eyes on a similar occasion last year.” The article goes on to explain that “the first race was for a plate of 20 Sovs, (Sovereigns ) for horses the property of residents of the County, Heats, one and a half mile.” Later in the article it is stated that “On Wednesday, upon the Fair Green of Caherciveen, the most amusing sports of all came off. Eight mules started for the prize, which was won by a farmer named Sugrue. An immense number of donkies (donkeys) then entered the arena, the owners riding, each; a neighbour’s donkey, and the last winning. It was a great day in Donkeydom, but the scene was far beyond our descriptive powers, nor are we able to Chronicle the name of, the most illustrious Ass who was “first in the rere (rear).”

From the 1950’s onwards farms became more mechanised, with the tractor replacing the horse. As a consequence the races suffered from the decline in the ownership of horses. The races continue however, and in recent years they are held in August.

Source: Sigerson Clifford, Ballads of a Bogman (Mercier Press, 1986)

'Twas a day in September that I'll always remember,

I went with my father to Carhan's old school

And there on the racecourse were gathered in great force

Rich man and poor man, wild boy and tame fool.

There were tinkers from Galway as brown as a ha'penny,

A beggar with whiskers the longest I've seen,

The three-card trick Johnny and the four-shots-a-penny

On the day of the races in Cahersiveen.

'Twas a rich Tower of Babel beside the school gable

Where the bookies were shouting and laying the odds,

'Twould take Atlas so hairy or our own Crusher Casey

To push through the crowds packed like peas in their pods.

There were tents like umbrellas where all sorts of fellows

Sold dilisc and shellfish and the juicy crubeen,

And penny Peg's legs the size of a peeler

On the day of the races in Cahersiveen.

The jockeys they sat on their horses like statues,

Their fame shall remain while the Fertha still flows:

'Tis my hero, Padgen, I'd pin a bright badge on,

With the two gallant Griffins, Jimmie and John Joe.

Denis Donovan, too, from high Barr na Sráide,

And Courtney, Saint Brendan's, were sporting and keen,

While Jack Rock's spurs a-jingle would make your blood tingle

On the day of the races in Cahersiveen.

The horses, God bless them, in my dreams I caress them,

The wild-things of beauty stole the heart from my side,

As I watched them fly over the grass and red clover

And sweep like the wind east by Reenrusheen tide.

They skimmed the hawbushes, they dashed through the rushes,

Their jockeys arrayed in blue, scarlet, and green:

'Twas the world's eighth wonder to hear their hooves thunder

On the day of the races in Cahersiveen.

O that night men did gather, hearts light like a feather.

Round a meegum in Bawner's or a pint at the Plow,

They toasted the horses that won out their courses

And shouted their praises while time did allow.

'Here's a health to you, Terry, and O'Neill's Pride of Kerry,

Likewise Lass from Sussa, the westland's swift queen:

May they graze in high heaven and have comfort for ever,

Ye're the pride of the races in Cahersiveen.'

My father is gone now, God's peace to his ashes,

The boys are young men and the old men are dead,

There is many a mile between me and the racecourse,

But the hooves of the horses beat loud in my head.

I give you my oath now I'd swop the wide world

To call back the bright days when proud I had been

A lad with his dad on the white road to Carhan,

And the splendid horse-races in Cahersiveen

Sigerson Clifford