ADD: The Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)

Subject: Corrigan Brothers
From: Declan
Date: 22 Jul 02 - 09:33 AM

Has anyone out there got the words to a poem or recitation called The Corrigan Brothers. I heard it recited a long time ago in a pub in Doolin in County Clare. It told the story of two brothers who were good horsemen but went to the bad. I only remember a few scraps of the story - an early line in the poem went "I was good in the saddle when I was young" and the last line repeated in each verse was - "The road downhill was the easy road - and that was the way we went."

Anyone got the words or any clues as to its origins ?

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Corrigan Brothers
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 24 Jul 02 - 10:18 AM

From the information you have given us, it seems this one should be easy to find if it exists on the Internet, but I have come up with nothing.

Is there an alternative way to spell "Corrigan"?

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Corrigan Brothers
From: Declan
Date: 24 Jul 02 - 11:23 AM

Found it here Kerrigan Boys

I had the title slightly wrong. Thanks for the hint Jim.

Subject: Lyr Add: THE KERRIGAN BOYS (Edward Harrington)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 24 Jul 02 - 12:13 PM

This seems worth saving.

By the way, I had never heard of "bush poetry" but it seems similar to what is called in America "cowboy poetry." Baxter Black is probably the most famous living cowboy poet.

Copied from http://www.bushpoetry.com/Lost%20Poetry/kerrigan_boys.htm

THE KERRIGAN BOYS
(Edward Harrington)

By jove it's hot on the track today, my flannel is soaked with sweat.
I think I'll sit in the shade a bit and wait for the sun to set.
I know of a decent camping place by the river beyond the town,
And I'd rather carry my swag through there after the sun goes down.

A touch of pride, well perhaps it is, though I haven't much cause for pride.
It's sixteen years to a day almost, since old man Kerrigan died.
Sixteen years and his place is sold and the fortune he left us spent,
For the road down hill is an easy road and that was the way we went.

Kerrigan, that was our father's name, was one of the tough old sort.
And he held by graft as he held by God, and he hated drink and sport.
We lads were fond of a bit of fun though he kept us under the rein,
And we had to bow to the old man's will, though it went against our grain.

He was kind enough in his hard old way, but we had to earn our keep,
Driving horses and milking cows, branding and shearing sheep.
No wonder we bucked a bit at times, for you know what youngsters are,
We mustn't dance at the local hall or drink in Mulligan's bar.

Well, those were the orders the old man gave, but we did it just the same,
Jack was two years younger than I, so I was the more to blame.
But I've often thought had he been less hard and left us a bit more free
It might have been better for him perhaps, and better for Jack and me.

The old man dropped in the yard one day where we had the weaners penned.
We picked him up and we carried him home but we knew that it was the end.
The neighbours gathered from miles around he hadn't a single foe,
And the crowd that stood by the open grave spoke well of the man below.

We grieved a lot for the old man's death though he left us wealthy men;
If we had not known what he meant to us we realized it then.
Our only sister had died at birth and our mother was long since dead,
And we found that we were the only heirs when the old man's will was read

We were just a couple of country lads; we'd never been off the farm,
We'd been held in check from our boyhood up by the weight of the old man's arm.
Good in the saddle and fair with our fists with a touch of the old man's pride,
But the neighbours muttered and shook their heads when old man Kerrigan died.

Hard and all as the old man was for years he had kept a stud.
For the love of the horse for the horses sake is strong in the Irish blood.
But breeding was only a hobby with him a sort of a harmless craze,
Though I'd often thought that he had his fling way back in his younger days.

We got mixed up with a racing crowd and started to go the pace.
Forgot the sound of the old man's voice and the frown on his rugged face.
For the road down hill is and easy road though it ends in a swift descent,
We were only youngsters, a reckless pair, and that was the way we went.

We staked for a win on the Chester colt on the strength of a trail he showed.
But someone got to the boy on top, we knew by the race he rode.
He lost ten lengths and he finished last it was useless to make a fuss,
For the men we met in the racing game were far too cunning for us

We backed him again in the Greytown Cup and he won by half the straight,
But we left our cash in the bookies bags, for he failed to draw the weight.
We cursed the jockey and we cursed the horse, and we sold him there and then.
We'd had enough of the racing game and the ways of racing men.

We could have got out of our troubles still if we put our hands to the plough,
But the life of leisure and cards and drink had got the grip on us now.
You may call it flashness or call it pride or simply a want of sense,
But the publicans and auctioneers grew wealthy at our expense.

We sat and drank in Mulligan's pub and gambled the whole night long.
We dealt in cattle and dealt in sheep and most of our deals went wrong.
As long as the banks would cash our cheques we didn't care what we spent,
For the road downhill is an easy road and that was the way we went.

Then things got bad and a drought came on and it lasted over a year.
Our stock died off and our dams gave out and we knew that the end was near.
Our credit stopped and the bank foreclosed and our fathers place was sold,
For the road downhill is and easy road as the prodigal found of old.

Five years after the old man's death together we took the track.
I wandered into the nearest pub and I had a drink with Jack.
Then he shook my hand and he wished me luck and I knew he was close to tears,
And I've never set eyes on Jack since then or heard of him now for years.

Somewhere out to the west of Bourke he's humping his swag maybe,
Tramping along in the broiling sun and cursing himself and me.
I'd give two years of my worthless life, though it may not last that long,
For one more look at his honest face, one grip of his fingers strong

Well that's the tale of the Kerrigan boys and the moral is near the end.
You'll always have plenty of friend at hand as long as you've cash to spend.
We had our chance and we played the fool, it's too late now to repent,
For the road downhill is an easy road and that was the road we went.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)
From: GUEST,Heidi
Date: 04 Apr 11 - 08:27 AM

My 86 year old Uncle sat at the table the other night and recited this poem to me word for word with the emphasis in all the right places. I had heard him in my childhood days say it around the camp fires at family gatherings in the bush, yet I was too flighty to pay attention, let alone understand. I am now 38 and he has been diagnosed with dementia.. So to have had the honor to hear it late that evening bought tears to my eyes. As my mother had always taught me "the road down hill is an easy one and thats the way they went" somehow, I always understood what she meant, yet to hear it in the poem, so metaphorically, has touched me immensely. This was the first reference to come up when I typed in the wrong spelling. After reading "The man from Snowy River" by Banjo Paterson an Australian bush poet from the 1800 who also wrote our unauthorized yet recognized National Anthem Waltzing Matilda (sung before every international sports match after our National Anthem Advance Australia Fair) Out the back of Bourke is a Very Australian slang saying. As Bourke is one of the last stops before the Simpson Desert. This is where one of my Uncles a true bushy had a sheep station. A very hard land indeed. The harder the land the deeper the soul.
Thank you for helping me find the words.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)
From: GUEST
Date: 27 Apr 11 - 10:46 PM

I am at present searching for poetry books written by Edward Harrington
I have Boundary Bend but would like a copy of his other poems
I am doing a photo book for my uncle who will be 80 this year. He is Edward's nephew and I am using some wise old words from his uncles poems to illustrate the book CAN ANYONE HELP

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 28 Apr 11 - 12:56 AM

buying his books could be difficult - I can't see any on book sites.

You will probably find the words of some/many of his poems on poetry sites.

check out the National Library's catalogue

Oral History interview - Alan Scott folklore collection, recorded 1955. Conversation and recitation.
Ted Harrington, Australian bush balladeer, speaks of his work and recites some of his poems [sound recording] / Interviewer: Stephen and Nita Murray Smith

Songs of war and peace by Edward Harrington. Melbourne : Fraser & Jenkinson, 1920.

Boundary bend and other ballads by Edward Harrington. Melbourne : Lothian, [1936?]

The Kerrigan boys and other Australian verses by Edward Harrington. Melbourne : W. Andrade, 1944

Alice Springs by Edward Harrington ; with portrait by Harry Hastings Pearce. Footscray, Vic. : Harry Hastings Pearce, 1957. Limited edition of 100 copies numbered and signed both by the author and illustrator.

The swagless swaggie and other ballads : selected verse of Edward Harrington. Melbourne : Australasian Book Society, 1957.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)
From: GUEST
Date: 07 May 11 - 08:20 PM

that was an irish version of same story but caled the corrigan brothers heard mostly at race meatings around ireland in 60sand 70s

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 09 May 11 - 12:01 AM

A couple more:

Running Waters: Written for Everil Venman by Edward Harrington (Lower Ferntree Gully: John T. Kirtley, 1952). Held by State Library of NSW, Sydney.

This Is Not Home Defence: Original Verse by Edward Harrington (Melbourne?: E. Harrington, 1965). "My contribution to the Vietnam controversy 26.7.65"--1st leaf. Held by State Library of Victoria, Melbourne.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)
From: GUEST
Date: 07 Jul 11 - 09:18 PM

Its Kerrigan Boys by Edward Harrington

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)
From: GUEST
Date: 05 Dec 11 - 11:17 AM

pj o;gorman {hacksaw} recited this poem as the "corrigan brothers" in the pub's around co. claire galway cork ect. ect. .It was a pleasure to listen to him ,one of a kind

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)
From: GUEST
Date: 25 Jun 13 - 08:40 PM

Marvellous

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Kerrigan Boys (Edward Harrington)
From: GUEST,Real Story it was based on
Date: 13 May 24 - 07:44 PM

Based on the Jeffery lads from Yabba. Edward Harrington was their cousin. Their dad, Sam Jeffery, who married into the O'Brien clan, died at 59.

Their grandfather who owned property all over Melbourne left a huge inheritance. The land would be worth approx $220M today.

This occurred in 1907. Heard stories of their adventures growing up. 2 generations to make a fortune, one to spend it. I grew up on the farm where it all occured.

We still gamble and drink particularly well

Cheers Ben Jeffery