Ballyroan GAA

1890 – Ballyroan Win First County Title

admin — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 00:04:20 +0000

Ballyroan won their first county title in this year by beating the Heath, little is known of it except that a Michael Cashin who played with them displayed his medal 60 years later when Ballyroan won senior championship that year.

We know that they received a walkover from Kildare in the Leinster Championship. Dublin championshipIsle of the Sea beat Ballyroan 2-8 to 0-1 in this championship.

Old Ballyroan

admin — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 00:03:06 +0000

You may talk of the beauty of lands o’er the ocean,
And boast of the glories of sweet sunny Spain,
But this heart clings to Erin with fondest devotion,
And in her dear green isle will always remain.
Her sweet spots so famous, her beauties are many,
And I’m proud dearest Erin to call you my own
But there’s one little spot, it’s far dearer than any
My own native village, my own Ballyroan.

Though others may boast of their riches and splendor,
We treasure a land much more noble and grand,
F or deep in our fond hearts thro’ warmth and tender
We treasure the love of our dear native land,
And away to the west, to the fair land of freedom,
Away o’er the wild waves, her bravest have flown,
There are true hearts today could old Erin but need them,
Who would die ‘neath her banner in Old Ballyroan.
And when life with its cares and its troubles are over,
And death, the grim tyrant is claiming its own,
I will pray that some kind heart my ashes will cover,
In some quiet Churchyard near Old Ballyroan.

The Skies O’er Ballyroan

admin — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 23:08:06 +0000

Words written by Thomas Hodge, a school master from Ballyroan in the late 19th century. Melody by Chris Andretti.

I love the sunny shores of France
I love the Italian skies
Where beauty beams o’er fields and streams
And nature reigns sublime
I love the Alps, the winding Rhine
The classic Po and Rhone
But ten time more do I adore
The skies o’er Ballyroan

The golden sun ne’er shone upon
A sweeter little town
The purling ril that runs the mill
Through hazel shades runs down
The moat (motte), high crowned with noble trees
Its origins unknown
Its silver grays illumes the place
For miles round Ballyroan

The chapel spire high over all
Points to the crystal sky
The vesper’s chimes proclaim the time
When evening worships night
And home the hearty workman hikes
His hour of toil now flown
With songs of cheer and Scully’s beer
Enliven’s Ballyroan

Oh Ballyroan, me native home
With grief my heart is sore
Within my breast and you oppressed
I’d act the hero’s part
If I should fall for Ireland’s cause
Like Emmett and Wolfe Tone
Then my last sigh to God on high
Would be for Ballyroan