We heard the Banshee wailing near the house. It was for the poor old “Buckeen” Daly. Poor ‘Buckeen’ a gosson of 96. A long and idle life, more popular dead than when he was alive. #TradFuneral
We all agree that it was one of the best wakes in ages. The widow absolutely delighted “long life to you Buckeen mo chroi, I never realised, these 64 years, that you were such craic” #TradFuneral
“I suppose it was wrong to get the coffin maker to measure poor Buckeen before he was dead” she said “Ochone, Ochone, did it hasten his death” she wondered #TradFuneral
In Knocknagillagh up in Cavan the man making a coffin died, another man had to finish it and bury him in it. The same happened with the “Buckeen” and the funeral was delayed #TradFuneral
So the poor “Buckeen” is put into the coffin. It is important that this is done by the same people who ‘laid him out’ - the Bean Ban - the White women whose job is to prepare the newly dead for the wake - first to see him dead, last to see him out #TradFuneral
Now, the ‘Buckeen’s” friends set up a little table outside the door of the wakehouse and people come an lay down a few pence towards the cost of the funeral. Contributions are not confidential as his friends loudly call out the name and amount of the ‘offering’ #TradFuneral
“Spare yourself the price of a hearse” said the ‘Buckeen’s’ friends “we’ll shoulder the coffin to the graveyard”. “All four miles?””ah shure, it’s the least we can do” #TradFuneral
Meanwhile the “Mouldy” Griffin and his boys were out digging the grave. Mrs Sheridan, the gravekeeper, had to satisfy herself that all was in order”Catholic?””yep” “two pound” “here””proceed””thank you Mrs Sheridan” #TradFuneral
“Shovel” said Mouldy”yes” said the boys “pick axe” “yes” “whisky?” “Four bottles - one each” “grand” said Mouldy “yis had better start digging””good job it’s not A Monday” thought Mouldy “or we wouldn’t be able to open a grave, that would be bad luck”#TradFuneral
It was only now that ‘Buckeen’s’ friends remembered the old tradition that the women who laid out the corpse used sit on the coffin as it was conveyed to the graveyard. “Jaysus boys, ould Nancy McGurl put on a bit of weight - four miles!” #TradFuneral
Feet first out the door, the lads carried the coffin out. They placed it on four stools in the yard so poor ‘Buckeen’ might get a last look at the house. When they picked it up someone turned the stools upside down #TradFuneral
This was probably to prevent ‘Buckeen’s ghost from thinking it was too comfortable. The Bean Bans climbed up on the coffin and the lads started off towards the graveyard with the coffin on their shoulders #TradFuneral
It was only now that someone drew the pallbearers attention to the old custom that you should never carry a coffin over a new road - old roads only “ah come on, that adds two miles” “tradition is tradition, lads” #TradFuneral
At last they get to Moybologue graveyard - the lads taking it in turn to shoulder the coffin. Everyone is tired and emotional except the Bean Bans comfortably perched on top of the coffin. Near the graveyard the keeners start wailing #TradFuneral
The plaintive cries of the keeners pitiful to hear “Ochone, Ochone, Buckeen, me darlin, why did you leave us .. Ochone ... oh Howya father” as the keepers of the ancestral religion pass ‘Buckeen’ over to the catholic clergyman “I’ll take it from here” said the priest #TradFuneral
A pint of holy water has been left at the foot of the grave. Murty Farrell thinks it’s poteen. The puffing pallbearers enter Moybologue- mercifully the Bean Bans have dismounted. They carry the coffin three times around the graveyard #TradFuneral
An ancient saying “Happy is the corpse that the rain rains on” as the skies open. Podge Tiernan unfolds a large, comfortable looking blanket and holds it over his head. Murty Farrell recognises it. It’s the blanket his father lost in the night of the Big Wind in 1839!#TradFuneral
“Jaysus the blanket” swears Murty “me father went out in that to save the bomhans getting blown away - and he got blown away himself and the robbing Tiernans stole his blanket - I’ll hould me whist a while” (FYI- I will remain silent) #TradFuneral
Poor Buckeen’s coffin is lowered into the grave. Murty Farrell’s boys are standing in the grave to catch the coffin as it is lowered. Murty counts his sons, three in the grave when it’s opened and three out when it’s closed. Another successful buria #TradFuneral
A loud roar resounds around Moybologue “Tiernan, ya robbing Bas....” The sound is drowned out by loud decades of the rosary. Tiernan looks up.. he has heard enough “I am dreadfully offended.. (or in Irish ‘begorrah - a faction fight’) #TradFuneral
Join me here tomorrow night as the Tiernan’s strive to defend their honour against the Farrell’s in the time honoured fashion of the faction fight #TradFuneral
@threadreaderapp unroll
