Memories.. Photos & Stories

[jembo]

who's the one in the jim-jams?

[DAMNTHEWEATHER]

who's the one in the jim-jams?

LMAO...datz me deck chair shurt....ffs.

[jembo]

LMAO...datz me deck chair shurt....ffs.

Enough said

[DAMNTHEWEATHER]

Enough said

Oim just an ordinary Joe.....loike quinner

[jembo]

Oim just an ordinary Joe.....loike quinner

hollymutterojazis that's saying something. Solidarity at last.

[DAMNTHEWEATHER]

hollymutterojazis that's saying something. Solidarity at last.

He tinks he's higher dan everywan else....jus coz e worked on lifts.

[jembo]

He tinks he's higher dan everywan else....jus coz e worked on lifts.

Up....Up and away

[DAMNTHEWEATHER]

Up....Up and away

Mind de doors....3rd floor....ladies underwear and haberdashery.

[jembo]

Mind de doors....3rd floor....ladies underwear and haberdashery.

Doors opening.....Doors closing, going up.

[DAMNTHEWEATHER]

Doors opening.....Doors closing, going up.

What goes up.....

[jembo]

What goes up.....

Have you ever heard a lift with an Irish accent?

[DAMNTHEWEATHER]

This one from the Friends of Moore Street....echoes of Rashers Tierney

Ah! Sure I’m an auld fella now, way beyond me prime

Living alone in me cellar room, trying to pass the time

The room is musky, dark and damp, Oh Jesus, cold as snow

With only a hissing gas lamp casting shadows from its glow

I listen out for footsteps, hoping someone comes to call

If not today, tomorrow? Ah, but then maybe not at all.

I look out now on crumbling walls, topped with railings up above

But all I see are people’s legs and prams that mothers shove

It wasn’t always this way, Dear God I’ll have ya know

Me and the mott had a grand room, in Dublin long ago

We started out in one auld room which in time, became too small

When time (and we) produced six kids sure there was no room at all.

Sure it’s not what you know but WHO you know was proved in record time

When auld Dineen the landlord, found big space for this gang of mine

A large tall room with closet, big enough for all our needs

In a tenement house two doors down called a “Drawing Room” if ya please!

Though times were tough, with years of want, we somehow struggled through

And raised our kids to manhood, relaying on penny stew

Then one by one they left us, some travelling far and wide

Just me and my auld Maggie, left by a lonely fireside

Yet, happy in our own auld way just living for each other

My wife, my life, me own sweet girl and she, the perfect mother

Then came that dark grey morning, when my Maggie passed away

Leaving me just memories and dreams of yesterday

I had to leave it all behind, could not afford the rent

The funeral cost and few auld beers has really seen me spent

From small to big, now back again much smaller I admit

Ah! Sweet Jesus, I’m on me own, me family now are split

The loneliness and heartache, this cellar room evokes

Would leave a man demented with tears that nearly choke

Just rats to keep me company, did I think I’d see this day?

As I listen to the scratching on me palliasse of hay

Cut off from all me neighbours, No cherry “There ya are”

I pray the good lord takes me from my prison without bar.

Bridget Griffiths

[DAMNTHEWEATHER]

The Ghosts of Moore Street.....

The ghosts are back but have lost their way
Seeking their Moore Street of yesterday
Strange new buildings block the view
Of lanes and alleys they once knew

They seek Cole’s Lane but cannot find
The stalls where bargains once were lined
Everything from shirts to shoes
With shoes a plenty and well used.

They flit, these ghosts from side to side
Looking for something they recognise
Alas, no “Maypole” Hanlon's or pubs
Where once they sat in cosy snugs

Leaving a friend to watch their stalls
While answering auld Nature calls
Remember that woman who sat by her stall?
Sniffing brown snuff from under her shawl

Her ghost shakes its head, perplexed and confused
Not hearing the banter that kept them amused
And what of auld Biddie, who sat, back to the wall
No, not a dealer but a viewer of all

Content to sit, watch the world go by
As she puffed on clay pipe with a contented sigh.
These sellers and dealers worked hard on the Street
In all kinds of weather hail, rain and sleet

Some three generations sold from one place
Shouting their wares at a non stop pace.
The Mas and grannies clutching string bags
Looking for bargains that were to be had

Poking in barrels filled up with brine
Covering corned beef in a film of slime
A collision of Dublin old and new
Are wiping out memories for the few

Who cling to traditions like mellowed wine
Of a Dublin in the Rare Auld Times.
Back to their resting place our ghost flee
Not finding their once “Used to Be”

Consigned to a place in history
Of Moore St. long ago.
Let's make our voices loud and clear
To retain our Moore St of yesteryear

Let this not be, just our dream
But a tribute to the heroes of 1916.

Bridget Griffiths

[jembo]

Ah! Sure I’m an auld fella now, way beyond me prime

Living alone in me cellar room, trying to pass the time

The room is musky, dark and damp, Oh Jesus, cold as snow

With only a hissing gas lamp casting shadows from its glow

I listen out for footsteps, hoping someone comes to call

If not today, tomorrow? Ah, but then maybe not at all.

I look out now on crumbling walls, topped with railings up above

But all I see are people’s legs and prams that mothers shove

It wasn’t always this way, Dear God I’ll have ya know

Me and the mott had a grand room, in Dublin long ago

We started out in one auld room which in time, became too small

When time (and we) produced six kids sure there was no room at all.

Sure it’s not what you know but WHO you know was proved in record time

When auld Dineen the landlord, found big space for this gang of mine

A large tall room with closet, big enough for all our needs

In a tenement house two doors down called a “Drawing Room” if ya please!

Though times were tough, with years of want, we somehow struggled through

And raised our kids to manhood, relaying on penny stew

Then one by one they left us, some travelling far and wide

Just me and my auld Maggie, left by a lonely fireside

Yet, happy in our own auld way just living for each other

My wife, my life, me own sweet girl and she, the perfect mother

Then came that dark grey morning, when my Maggie passed away

Leaving me just memories and dreams of yesterday

I had to leave it all behind, could not afford the rent

The funeral cost and few auld beers has really seen me spent

From small to big, now back again much smaller I admit

Ah! Sweet Jesus, I’m on me own, me family now are split

The loneliness and heartache, this cellar room evokes

Would leave a man demented with tears that nearly choke

Just rats to keep me company, did I think I’d see this day?

As I listen to the scratching on me palliasse of hay

Cut off from all me neighbours, No cherry “There ya are”

I pray the good lord takes me from my prison without bar.

Bridget Griffiths

A tear to me eye....DTW

[DAMNTHEWEATHER]

A tear to me eye....DTW

lovely lines indeed..