The Castleboro Lament

 

I strolled down the Castleboro Lane to the Keeper's Lodge, my old home

A rambling feeling came over me and further I did roam

Down along the leafy pathway to Newtown's one arched bridge

My view was down the valley to the burnt out mansion on the ridge

 

It's now ninety years ago since the fire burned so bright

And the flames lit up the countryside on that February night

War and conflict all around some thought burning mansions wise

That night when the match was struck was the start of your demise

 

Your gardens, like your mansion were the finest ever seen

With granite steps and marble fountains and stately yews so green

The waterfalls, lakes and mooring pier were all so fine and grand

Now your mansion is a ruin, your gardens are farm land

 

I remember the big field days on the twenty ninth of June

When crowds arrived from miles around and assembled at the ruin

The children explored the rooms and cellars down below

And pretended they were Lords and Ladies that graced this mansion long ago

 

The rifle range, the swinging boats, all did a steady trade

And to the parish funds did go the money that was made

The ice-cream stall, the tea tent and it packed out to the door

And not room for another couple on the concrete dance floor

 

Some families brought their picnics and sat upon the grass

And had a word for everyone that leisurely did pass

Young lovers headed for the laurels, as the strolled off hand in hand

And the sound of music filled the air played by the Castleboro ceili band

 

Evening time it came so soon and homeward we did make

We walked across the waterfall at the end of the big lake

On up through Lennon's meadow reluctantly we'd go

Away from Castleboro in the valley down below

 

But today I strolled on further as the river flow

Down by the ancient Castle of Ballyboro

As it battles against the elements to stand up straight and tall

The battle it is losing as some parts are about to fall

 

Ryan's old house and farmyard alas we'll see no more

Where music of the whistle or flute would greet you at the door

The three arched bridge beside the wood, two arches are now dry

A sign of wider waters here in the years gone by

​

I wandered on aimlessly where I remember trees so tall

And arrived at Castleboro Bridge and I rested at the wall

The Porter's lodge at the entrance gates where once lived Tom O'Toole

And a little further on once stood Lady Carew's embroidery school

 

Then I followed by the Born's bank past the site of Coppens Mill

And out on to Deacon's Moor in the shadow of Pedder's Hill

I stood upon the Metal Bridge where Lords and Ladies strolled

And the beauty down the valley before me did unfold

 

To the meeting of the waters once the outlet from the lake

Moore would have been inspired if this route he had to take

And I saw the old Grand Lodge above the ash tree hole

And on to Aughnagapple Bridge I leisurely did stroll

 

I headed up the green lane, heading for Coolaught

Past where Hickey's Lodge once stood, now there's a new house on the spot Killegney School is now closed down and won't open anymore

The sign of emptiness is seen by the weeds growing at the door

 

Then I turned in by the Church Lodge and to Nan I said 'hello'

And beneath the large beech trees to the churchyard I did go

I paid respects to friends and people I once knew

And I said a little prayer at the grave of Lord Carew

 

For Carews made Castleboro, they were present at the birth

And over the years they created a little piece of heaven on this earth

They left behind a legacy, which we did not accept

Now it pains the heart to see the relics that are left

 

In my dreams I've seen your splendor as in the days of yore

With swans swimming on your lakes and peacocks at your door

Your walls adorned with tapestries and rooms fit for a queen

I awaken disappointed when I realise it's but a dream

 

Now I'm back to where I started in the Castleboro lane

And time stands still for no one and nothing stays the same

Castleboro is no different of that there's little doubt

As I view the Celtic Tiger mansions that have sprung up all about
 

With sunrooms and conservatories and decking out the back

And a stable for the pony and a room for all the tack

With lampposts and electric gates and gardens looking fine

Yet none would hold a candle to Castleboro in her prime.

​

                     Damian Cullen 2013