Ulster Ancestry : Newsletter
W.F. Marshall,The Bard of Tyrone

Few poets have been so loved by the ordinary people as W.F. Marshall,"The Bard of Tyrone" His verses about his native county- it's mountains and woods,it's plaintive old bachelors and love-sick girls,it's laughter and vigor,are known and cherished by an older generation, many of whom can be relied upon to recite "Me an'me Da" "Sarah Ann" or "Our Son" as the occasion demands.
"The Bard" the Rev. William Forbes Marshall BA. LLB. DD. MRIA. was born Bill Marshall in Drumragh ,Omagh, County Tyrone on the 8th May 1888. His father was principle teacher in Sixmilecross National School where Bill recieved his early education.

One of his most loved poems is "Me an'me Da" also sometimes subtitled "Livin in Drumlister"

It is written in the local Tyrone dialect so we have given you an "english" translation!


Me an??? me Da
By W.F. Marshall


I???m livin in Drumlister
An I???m getting very oul???
I have to wear an Indian bag
To save me from the coul.
The deil a man in this townlan???
Wos claner raired nor me,
But I???m livin??? in Drumlister
In clabber to the knee.

Me Da lived up in Carmin,
An??? kep a sarvint boy.
His second wife was very sharp,
He birried her with joy.
Now she wos thin,her name was Flynn
She come from Cullentra,
An??? if me shirts a clatty shirt
The man to blames me Da.

Consarnin weemin sure it wos
A constant word of his,
Keep well away from them that???s thin
Their tempers aisy riz.
Well,I knowed two I thought wud do
But still I had me fears,
So I skiffled back an??? forrit
Between the two,for years.

Wee Margit had no fortune,
But two rosy cheeks wud plaze.
The farm o lan??? was Bridget???s,
But she tuk the pock disayse.
An??? Margit she was very wee,
An??? Bridget she was stout.
But her face was like a goal door,
With the bowlts pult out.

I???ll tell no lie on Margit
She thought the worl??? of me.
I???ll tell the truth me heart wud lep
The sight of her to see.
But I wos slow, ye surely know
The raison of it now,
If I left her home from Carmin
Mr Da wud rise a row.

So I swithered back an forrit???
Till Margit got a man.
A fella come from Mullaslin
An??? left me jist the wan.
I mind the day she went away,
I hid wan strucken hour,
An cursed the wasp from Cullentra
That made me Da so sour.

But cryin cures no trouble,
To Bridget I went back,
An faced her for it that night week
Fornenst her own turf stack
I axed her there,an???spoke her fair,
The handy wife she???d make me,
I talked about the lan??? that joined
-Begob! She wudn???t take me.

So I???m livin in Drumlister
An??? I???m getting very oul???
I creep to Carmin wanst a month
To thry an??? make me sowl
The deil a man in this townlan???
Wos claner raired nor me,
And I???m dying in Drumlister
In clabber to the knee.


???English??? translation from Tyrone speak of ???Me an???me Da???

???Me and my father???
By W.F. Marshall.

I???m living in Drumlister
And I???m getting very old
I have to wear a potato bag
To keep me from the cold
There???s not a man in this townland
Was cleaner reared than me
But I???m living in Drumlister
In cow dung to the knee.

My father lived in Carmin
And kept a servant boy
His second wife was very sharp
He buried her with joy
Now she was thin, her name was Flynn
She came from Cullentra
And if my shirts a dirty shirt
The man to blame???s my Da

Concerning woman, sure it was
A constant word of his
Keep well away from them that???s thin
Their???s temper???s easy rise
Well I knew two, I thought would do
But still I had my fears
So I kiffled back and forward
Between the two, for years

Wee Margaret had no fortune
But two rosy cheeks would please
The farm of land was Bridget???s
But she took cowpox desease
And Margaret she was very wee
And Bridget she was stout
But her face was like a jail door
With the bolts pulled out

I???ll tell no lie ???bout Margaret
She thought the world of me
I???ll tell the truth my heart would leap
The sight of her to see
But I was slow, you surely know
The reason for it now
If I left her home from Carmin
My Da would rise a row


So I swithered back and forward
Until Margaret got a man
A fellow came from Mullaslin
And left me just the one
I recall the day she went away
I hid one strucken hour
And I cursed the wasp from Cullentra
Who had made my Da so sour

But crying cures no trouble
To Bridget I went back
And faced her for it that night week
Beside her own turf stack
I asked her there and spoke her fair
The handy wife she???d make me
I talked about our land that joined
Begob! She would not take me.

So I???m living in Drumlister
And I???m getting very old
I creep to Carmin once a month
In an attempt to save my soul.
There???s not a man in this townland
Who was cleaner reared than me
But I???m dying in Drumlister
In cow dung to the knee.

















Research Services Free Pages FAQ
Ulster Ancestry 2004-2007. Opt-in E-Mail Newsletter - All Rights Reserved. Ulster Ancestry

You have subscribed to receive this newsletter via an opt-in mailing list on www.ulsterancestry.com. To be removed from this list, simply reply to this newsletter with the word UNSUBSCRIBE in the subject line. Removals may take up to 48 hours.