Today, March 20th, marks the anniversary of Brendan Behan’s death. Born within the shadow of Croke Park on February 9th, 1923, Behan is someone whose raucous personality and dubious reputation as a violent drunk belie a real intellectual talent. Behan’s anniversary falls within Seachtain na Gaeilge and while he is internationally renowned for his work in the English language, some may not be familiar with Behan’s Irish-language output.
Sixty-two years on from Behan’s untimely death, Irish culture remains both vibrant and fluid, and the oral tradition of songs, poetry and recitations in both languages and several more is alive and well “all along the banks of the Royal Canal”. As well as The Auld Triangle, expect to hear a rendition of another of his favourite songs, The Zoological Gardens, written by his brother Dominic, in James Gill’s Corner House on the North Circular Road, as his local and nearest hostelry marks this anniversary.
Last Sunday night we had no dough
So I took the mot up to see the zoo
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We saw the lions and kangaroos
Inside the zoological gardens
Behan picked up his Irish at school, where he was particularly adept at learning many long poems off by heart, including the ribald Cúirt an Mheán Óiche [The Midnight Court], written by Brian Merriman in 1780. Behan polished his linguistic skills in the “Jailtacht” – the prisons of Arbour Hill, with native speakers such as Seán Ó Briain from Baile an Fheirtéaraigh in Kerry, and in the Curragh’s Tin Town, where he came under the tutelage of Connemara native Máirtín Ó Cadhain. Like many young republicans, Behan would emerge from internment more deeply read and fluent in his native tongue.
A Gael Linn bursary allowed Behan spend time in the Aran Islands in the early 1950s and he also visited the Corca Dhuibhne Gaeltacht several times. Gael Linn also invited him to write a play in Irish, An Ghiall, which he later translated as The Hostage. He wrote a beautiful poem lamenting the evacuation of the Blasket Islands in 1953, which he dedicated to Seán Ó Briain.
Jackeen ag Caoineadh na mBlascaod
Beidh an fharraige mhór faoi luí gréine mar ghloine,
Gan bád faoi sheol ná comhartha beo ó dhuine
Ach an t-iolar órga deireanach thuas ar imeall
An domhain, thar an mBlascaod uaigneach luite…
The great sea under the setting sun gleams like glass,
Not a sail in sight, not a living person to see it pass
Save the last golden eagle hung on the edge of the world,
Over the lonely Blasket resting, his wings unfurled.
(translation by Ulick O’Connor)
Behan was also fond of macaronic songs that feature lyrics in multiple languages. On a 1962 recording that was launched for the American market titled Brendan Behan Sings Irish Folksongs and Ballads, we find three Irish-language songs including a macaronic verse from his uncle Peadar Kearney’s song Down by the Glenside, which notes that despite their cause being a failure, and them not fearing danger, they were ready to die for the Irish nation:
Is é an rud atá ráite nár eirigh an cás leo.
Ach bé sin an t-aon rud a bhí in ann dhóibh,
Ach ba bheag leo an bás ach é a bheith ina náisiún
Glory Oh, Glory Oh, to the bold Fenian men.
The two other Irish-language songs on that recording highlight Behan’s appreciation of the ancient Gaelic bardic tradition. An Chúilfhionn, he notes, dates to the Middle Ages when Irish men would wear their hair long in the Gaelic fashion, later forbidden under Henry VIII’s reign. The final song Preab san Ól’, written by the 18th-century poet and satirist Riocard Bairéad, shares the similar theme we find in An Bonnán Buí where Cathal Buí MacGiolla Ghunna tells us to keep continuously drinking for fear that, like the yellow bittern, we might die of thirst. Sadly, Behan took this advice too seriously which undoubtedly led to his early death.
Is iomaí slí sin do bhíos ag daoine
Ag cruinniú píosaí is ag déanamh stóir‘
S a laghad a smaoiníos ar ghiorra a’ tsaoil seo
Go mbeidh siad sínte faoi an leac go fóill.
Bairéad observes many people spending their leisure bereft of pleasure, amassing treasure, as they scrimp and save. However, he notes the reality to this insanity is that you cannot bring a penny with you to the grave.
Más tiarna tíre, diúc no rí thú,
Ní cuirfear pingin leat ‘s tú ‘dul faoin bhfód
Mar sin is dá bhrí sin, níl beart níos críonna,
Ná bheith go síoraí ag cur preab san ól
He argues that landlords and gentry, with all their plenty, must still go empty when underground, so to my thinking it’s best to be drinking whenever there’s a party to be found. Behan adds this extra English verse to Preab san Ól which blesses the captain of the sailing ship and finishes thus:
Advocaat and brandy, red wine or shandy
Oh, may his cargo never sink,
Let’s come the chorus, there’s life before us,
While we still put our true trust in Drink
The Irish language and Irish traditional songs, storytelling and poetry are alive and well in Behan’s bailiwick of Dublin’s north inner city, as evidenced in the programming of the Five Lamps Festival, Phizzfest and regular music sessions in The Annesley House, The Hut, Hedigan’s Brian Boru, The Cobblestone or Na Fianna GAA club. In the latter, storyteller and modern-day bard Seosamh Ó Maolalaí composed a macaronic ditty in the style of Dominic Behan:
Ah Dublin’s me darlin’, In sunshine and showers,
Up in Ballymun they had seven fine towers
But here in Glasnevin, we’ve got all them flowers,
That grow in the Botanical Gardens
When I was a young lad, I had a few mots,
And for a cheap date, I brought them down to the Bots
To look at the forsythia, And the forget-me-nots,
Down in the Botanical Gardens
Chuaigh mé siar is aniar, Is bhí mé thall is abhus
In airde san aer, Is in ísle ar an mbus
Ach ní fhaca mé aon áit riamh chomh deas, chomh haoibhinn,
chomh hálainn, chomh bláthúil, chomh cumhra, chomh galánta le...
Garraithe Náisiúnta na Lus
Nó i mBéarla... The Botanical Gardens
Following the bardic tradition, Dermot Kelly sang Seosamh’s composition in Hedigan’s Brian Boru pub last week for Mathew and Serena Jebb at an event marking Jebb’s departure as director of the Botanical Gardens, a position he has held since 2010. In true Behan bardic style, he craftily adjusted some verses for the occasion of the departing blooming couple, inserting references to Princess Diana, who shared lodgings with Serena during their London student days.
Regardless of royalty, Bairéad’s words are worth remembering, whether you are a landlord, duke, king or knave, no money will be interred with you when you are in your grave. Although dying far too young, Behan left a wealth of bilingual writing to the nation. Imagine the body of work this literary prince might have produced had he not had such a “preab san ól”.
Dr Máirtín Mac Con Iomaire is Co-PI of TU Dublin’s Centre for Irish Studies, and co-editor of Irish Food History: A Companion (RIA, 2024)
