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Life
1854-1935 F. A. Fahy; pseud. ‘An Dreolin’[the Wren]]; b. 29 Sept. Kinvara, Co. Galway; ed. national school; London civil service, 1873; contrib. to Nation, Weekly News, United Ireland, Young Ireland, and Weekly Freeman; author of “The Ould Plaid Shawl”, first printed in Shamrock, “The Irish Lullaby” and “Little Mary Cassidy”; fnd. Southwark Junior Literary Club, 1881, for children, and fnd. member and first President of Southwark Literary Club for adults, 4 Jan. 1883, with support from Charles Gavan Duffy, John O’Leary, John Redmond, R. Barry O’Brien, D. P. Moran, Justin McCarthy, Dr. Mark Ryan, and W. B. Yeats; from it grew the Irish Literary Society in 1892, publishing poems of J. F. O’Donnell; collaborated with D. J. O’Donoghue on biographical series on Irish authors in London for the Daily Telegraph; authored a history of Ireland for children in verse [q.d.], and a play, The Last of the O’Learys [q.d.]; there is a public house called The Old Plaid Shawl in Kinvara and a plaque on the house where he was born. PI JMC DBIV DIB DIH OCIL
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Works| Poetry |
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| Scores (his words set to music) |
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References
W. P. Ryan, The Irish Literary Revival, Its History, Pioneers and Possibilities [facs. of 1894 first edn.] (NY: Lemma Publishing Corp. 1970), pp.11, 12, 14, 52, 102, 141; recounts that Francis A. Fahy, a young civil servant, born in Kinvara, Co. Galway, was author at an early age of an Irish drama [The Last of the O’Leary’s], and, with a few enthusiastic friends, began an Irish revival which led to many such awakenings in Great Britain [p.11] ... ‘Francis Fahy himself, and his young friends, were, I must admit, as ardent politicians as any. But they had far-reaching literary and educational projects as well’ [p.12]; Founded Southwark Junior Irish Literary Club, c.1880, Surrey Rooms, Blackfriars Road [p.14]; wrote child’s rhyming Irish history [p.14]; Fahy and Thomas Boyd prevented from attending [at Yeats’s house, 28th Dec. 1891, to initiate the Irish Literary Society] by insufficient notice [p.52]; Francis Fahy ‘not quite continued upon his Southwark lines. The sooner he is tempted to leave his poetic ‘Castle of Indolence’; the better for the racy element in our native literature’ [p.102]; quotes Fahy’s poetical rendering of Irish hospitality, ‘The cream of kindly welcome and the core of cordiality’. [p.141]
| Gerry Adams writes on ‘Francis Fahy - A Serious Funny Man’ in Irish Voice (22 May 2001): ‘Francis who? says you. Francis Fahy. He composed Galway Bay, campaigned for Home Rule, was in the forefront of the Irish Revival Movement and even found time to compose a History of Ireland in rhyme for children. Today, Francis A. Fahy …’ |
D. J. O’Donoghue, Poets of Ireland (Dublin: Hodges Figgis & Co. 1912), lists Irish Songs and Poems (1887); Pres. of London Gaelic League, and other Irish Lit. Societies in London; collaborated with D. J. O’Donoghue on Ireland in London; author of “The Auld Plaid Shawl”, “The Irish Lullaby”, the former appearing in Shamrock; contributor to Nation, Weekly News, United Ireland and Young Ireland and Weekly Freeman; pseudonym “Dreoilin [the Wren]’; described by D. J. O’Donoghue as being ‘one of the raciest of Irish poets’.
Justin McCarthy, gen. ed., Irish Literature (Washington: Catholic Univ. of America 1904), selects prose, “How To Become A Poet” [ironically contesting ‘born, not made’; defines poetry in terms of rhyme, ‘the chief and only feature in modern poetry’; ‘get your endings to rhyme and you need trouble about little else’]. Also selects, “The O”Donovans”; “Irish Molly, O”; “The Ould Plaid Shawl”, and “Little Mary Cassidy”; McCarthy notes that he wrote a play, The Last of the O’Learys, which was performed in his native town, and says that whereas A. P. Graves sings of the pastoral and out-door life of the people, Fahy deals with their home-life.
John Cooke, Dublin Book of Irish Verse (Dublin: Hodges & Figgis; London: OUP 1909) selects “The Old Plaid Shawl”; “Little Mary Cassidy”.
Irish Book Lover, Vol. VI, p.162 [on Fahy].
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Quotations
“The O’ Donovans”: ‘If you would like to see the height of hospitality, / The cream of kindly welcome, and the core of cordiality: / Joyce of the olden time - you’re wishing to recall again?’ / Come down to Donovans, and there you’ll meet them all again. // Cead mile failte they’ll give you done at Donovans, / As cheery as the springtime and Irish as the cannawawn / The wish of my heart is, if ever I had any one- / That every luck that lightens life may light upon the Donovans’.
“Irish Molly, O”: ‘Oh, fairer than the lily tall, and sweeter than the rose, / As modest as the violet in dewy dell that blows; / With heart as warm as summer noon, as pure as winter snow / The pride of Erin’s isle is she, dear Irish Molly O!’ [
| “The Ould Plaid Shawl” | |
Not far from old Kinvara, in the merry month of May, She tripped along right joyously, a basket on her arm; I courteously saluted her -” God save you, miss, says I; Enchanted with her beauty rare, I gazed in pure delight, |
They may talk of highway robbers that, with pistols and with knives, O! graceful the mantillas that the signorinas wear, O! some men sigh for riches, and some men live for fame, I’ll seek her all through Galway, and I’ll seek her all through Clare, |
Rep. in Songs of the Gael: A Collection of Anglo-Irish Songs [... &c.], Rev. Patrick Walsh (Dublin: Browne & Nolan 1922), pp.56-57 [available at Internet Archive - online]. Fr. Walsh writes: ‘This is one of several, which I intend to give, of Frank Fahy’s charming songs. Some of his songs are copyright in London Publishers with whom I cannot afford to deal, and who have set some, at least, of Mr. Fahy’s songs to airs which are anything but Irish.’ |
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| Also selects “Galway Bay”: ‘[...] My chosen bride is by my side, her brown hair silver-grey, / Her daughter Rose, as like her grows as April dawn to day; / Our eldest boy, his mother’s joy, his father's pride and stay — / With gifts like these I'd live at ease were I near Galway Bay.’ (pp.60-61 - online.) | |
“Little Mary Cassidy”: ‘Oh, this little Mary Cassidy, the cause of all my misery, / The reason that I am not now the boy I used to be: / Oh, she bates the beauties all that we read about in history [...//...] I never would feel lonely with the two of us alone.’
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