I must admit that I had forgotten about the song completely.
I wish I was in Carrickfergus
Only for nights in Ballygrant
I would swim over the deepest ocean
The deepest ocean my love to find
Then Grace Burgess (Annabelle Wallis), that loathsome undercover cop in “Peaky Blinders,” stood up in that smoky bar and sang “Carrickfergus.” She not only stunned that bar and got the job, but she knocked me on my well- upholstered Irish behind.
I assume that you are aware of “Peaky Blinders” because it is the best show I have seen since “The Sopranos” and “Breaking Bad.” The attention to detail in the BBC production along with the casting, acting and photography are impressive.
But I digress.
Truth be told, Grace was not much of a singer but the song pulled on my heartstrings like it always does. I would guess the year was around 1963 (sorry) when the Clancy Brothers were so unknown that they sang at a smoky basement coffee house (no liquor) on Boylston Street in Boston. The first time I heard “Carrickfergus” it stopped me in my tracks. More truth. The song does not make much sense because it was composed of several different songs, melded together. That does not stop it from being one of the most popular Irish songs.
FYI, Carrickfergus is a large town in County Antrim in Northern Ireland, about 11 miles from Belfast. FYI, the Titanic spent a night in the harbor before heading for disaster. So there.
According to experts, the song started out as a lament by an Irishman with a deceiving wife. It was supposedly penned by Mac Giolla Ghunna, who died in 1745. Talk about a golden oldie. We are talking classic song here. It was later incorporated into another ditty about an Irishman missing his home. It was passed down by barroom generations and supposedly Dominic Behan, brother of the famed Irish writer, changed a verse or two. The original Irish version, naturally, was bawdy. A later English version was more sterile and nostalgic, naturally.
Actor Peter O’Toole gets credit for popularizing the tune when he sang it for Behan.
But the sea is wide and I cannot swim over
And neither have I wings to fly
I wish I could meet a handsome boatsman
To ferry me over, to my love and die
Being an impulsive sort, as soon as I heard Grace sing the song, I fled to iTunes. I had scores of Clancy Brothers songs on my iTunes account, but strangely, no “Carrickfergus.” I remedied that immediately, and then downloaded other versions by Van Morrison, Derek Bell, The Chieftains and Celtic Woman. I told you I was impulsive.
Now, I can listen to it endlessly. The list of those who have not recorded the song is probably shorter than those who have. Even Joan Baez (not a favorite) has taken a turn on it. Folk singer Aleksandr Karpov has even translated it to Russian and recorded it.
If you have lost a friend or 10 along this way, the lyrics will grab you, too. They played the song as a dirge at the funeral of John F. Kennedy Jr. in 1999.
My boyhood friends and my own relations
Have all passed on now like melting snow
They will sing a song as soon as raise a glass in the Irish pubs. Naturally, Carrickfergus, with its lament for death, drinking and the homeland, is a favorite. It lends itself to boisterous delivery, probably a clue to its popularity.
But I’ll sing no more now til I get a drink
Cause I’m drunk today and I’m seldom sober
When I plan my own funeral, it will feature mostly songs by Otis Redding. (I once sang into his microphone in Oakland, California.) But it must contain at least three versions of “Carrickfergus.”
Ah but I’m sick now my days are numbered
Come all you young men and lay me down
I have a tear in my eye. I always do.
Emmet Meara lives in Camden in blissful retirement after working as a reporter for the BDN in Rockland for 30 years.