CRACK WAS NINETY IN THE ISLE OF MAN

CRACK WAS NINETY IN THE ISLE OF MAN SUNG BY THE DUBLIN CITY RAMBLERS...Lyrics

Ah weren't we the rare oul' stock?
Spent the evenin' gettin' locked
In the Ace of Hearts
Where the high stools were engaging,
Over the Butt Bridge, down by the dock
The boat she sailed at five o'clock
"Hurry on lads", said Whack,
Or before we're there we'll all be back
Sayin' carry him if you can,
Oh the Crack was Ninety in the Isle of Man.

Before we reached the Alexander Base
A hell of a ding dong we did raise
In the bar of the ship we had great sport
As the boat she sailed out from the port
Landed up in the Douglas Head
Enquiring for a vacant bed.
To the dining room got shown
By a decent woman up the road.
Sayin',"Ate that if you can,"
The Crack was Ninety in the Isle of Man.

Next morning went for a ramble round
To see the sights of Douglas Town.
All went in for a mighty session
In a pub they call Dick Darbies.
All got drunk by half-past three;
To sober up went swimmin' in the sea
Back to the digs for the spruce up
While waitin' for the rosie
Ah we all drew up our plan
The Crack was Ninety in the Isle of Man.

That night we went to the Texas Bar
Came back down by horse and car.
Met Big Jim and all went in
To drink some wine in Yate's.
The Liverpool girls, it was said,
Were all to be found in the Douglas Head
McShane was there in a tie and shirt
And the foreign quarewans he tried to flirt,
Sayin' "Here girls, I'm your man,"
The Crack was Ninety in the Isle of Man.

Whacker fancied his good looks;
With an Isle of Man woman he was struck.
But a Liverpool lad was by her side.
And he throwin' 'the jar into her.'
Whacker thought he'd take a chance,
He asked the quare one out to dance.
Round the floor they stepped it out
To Whack it was no bother.
Everythin' was goin' to plan
Oh The Crack was Ninety in the Isle of Man.

Well the Isle of Man woman fancied Whack,
But your man stood there till his mates came back
Whack! they all whacked into Whack
And Whack was whacked out on his back.
The police force arrived as well,
Banjoed a couple of them, I'll tell,
Ended up in the Douglas jail,
Until the Dublin boat did sail,
Deported every man,
The Crack was Ninety in the Isle of Man.













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The West Clare Wrenboys

On the 26th December each year the Wrenboys take to the road. They visit each house in the locality playing music,dancing,singing and reciting poems. The style of set dancing in Clare is symbolised by the "battering" or foot tapping that goes on in time with the music. This clip was taken when set dancing was neither profitable or popular. Every time I look at this video it raises my heart another few beats. I love it!

In Ireland, St. Stephen's Day is the day for "Hunting the Wren" or "Going on the Wren." Originally, groups of small boys would hunt for a wren, and then chase the bird until they either have caught it or it has died from exhaustion. The dead bird was tied to the top of a pole or holly bush, which was decorated with ribbons or colored paper.

Early in the morning of St. Stephen's Day, the wren was carried from house to house by the boys, who wore straw masks or blackened their faces with burnt cork, and dressed in old clothes. At each house, the boys sing the Wren Boys' song. Such as:

The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,
On St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze,
Although he is little, his family is great,
I pray you, good landlady, give us a treat.

My box would speak, if it had but a tongue,
And two or three shillings, would do it not wrong,
Sing holly, sing ivy--sing ivy, sing holly,
A drop just to drink, it would drown melancholy.

And if you draw it of the best,
I hope in heaven your soul will rest;
But if you draw it of the small,
It won't agree with these wren boys at all.

Sometimes those who gave money were given a feather from the wren for good luck. The money collected by the Wren Boys was used to hold a dance for the whole village.

There are different legends about the origin of this custom. One is that St. Stephen, hiding from his enemies in a bush, was betrayed by a chattering wren. The wren, like St. Stephen, should be hunted down and stoned to death. Another legend holds that during the Viking raids of the 700's, Irish soldiers were betrayed by a wren as they were sneaking up on a Viking camp in the dead of night. A wren began to eat breadcrumbs left on the head of a drum, and the rat-a-tat-tat of its beak woke the drummer, who sounded the alarm and woke the camp, leading to the defeat of the Irish soldiers and the continuing persecution of the wren


by clarebannerman














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