Songs of Percy French

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a b c De Burgh Daly, Mrs (1973). Prose, Poems and Parodies of Percy French. Dublin: Talbot Press. pp.vii–xv. ISBN 978-0-85452-107-4.

French wrote a number of songs of which the music is lost today. His opera "The Knight of the Road," also so beloved by Joyce, was praised by Healy who re-printed a number of its songs in his book on French’s songs and believes the opera could successfully be performed for a modern audience. Words of some songs from his other children’s opera "Freda and the Fairies" survive but some of the music is tragically lost. ‘Pretendy Land’ has survived and is in French’s archive. William Percy French (1 May 1854 – 24 January 1920) was an Irish songwriter, author, poet, entertainer and painter. As well as mounting several solo exhibitions of French's paintings he published several catalogues of French's watercolours. French's daughters, Joan and Ettie were regular visitors to the Oriel Gallery from the early 1970s and the gallery possesses their letters to Oliver. Peter Ustinov opened the 1986 French exhibition in the Oriel to a thronged audience.Lowry, Bernadette (December 2021). Sounds of Manymirth on the Night's Ear Ringing: Percy French (1854-1920) His Jarvey Years and Joyce's Haunted Inkbottle. Dublin: Carmen Eblana Productions Carmeneblana.com. pp.19–20. ISBN 9 781914 488412. We reached the Mountains safely, though stiff and sore with cramp; Each took a wet of whiskey neat, to dissipate the damp. At those twelve times twenty 'tables we will never look again, In the lazy time that's coming later on; It is important to mention a song by French forgotten today called "The Fortunes of Finnegan" because when I was writing my book "Sounds of Manymirth" on French’s influence on James Joyce, I discovered that "The Fortunes of Finnegan" is the second most references of French’s songs in "Finnegans Wake" and is entirely thematic because it is a very amusing song about an indestructible giant - Finnegan who survives a series of mishaps; being bitten by a cat but the cat gets paralyzed not Finnegan, then he was hit by a motor car and the car came out the worst in the incident and the invincible Finnegan presumed dead, was found under the bonnet fixing it. He was also the man who succeeded in politics and who won the hand of ‘beautiful Mary Flynn’ because disregarding the matter of a dowry which made all other suitors cautious, Finnegan was ready to wed her ‘in the clothes she’s standin’ in.’

And only Gaelic spoken in that House in College Green. Told me landlords wor the Divil! their agints ten times worst,. French's archive currently resides in the North Down Museum, Bangor, County Down where researchers are welcome to view material by appointment with the museum. [19] Bibliography [ edit ] Tis merely throwin' life away to face that mearin' dhrain, I'm not as bold as lions, but I'm braver nor a hin, When the Board of Works reduced its staff around 1888, French turned to journalism as the editor of The Jarvey, a weekly comic paper. [4] French was an enthusiastic cyclist, who cycled all over the country with his art materials stopping to sketch and paint. He was good friends with "Arjay" Mecredy, and when Mecredy went on holiday, he asked French to stand in for him as editor of The Irish Cyclist magazine. French's fey sense of humour caused him to make facetious replies to the letters to the editor, and Mecredy returned to a storm of raging withdrawals of subscriptions. He offered to subvent French in a humorous magazine.

When The Jarvey failed, French's long and successful career as a songwriter and entertainer began. He had lived by the canal in Dublin at 35 Mespil Road before going to London in 1890. He famously wrote to his friends when he moved there: "We have come to live by the canal, do drop in". A granite seat was erected in 1988 on the canal near his home, dedicated to French. It was sponsored by the Oriel Gallery and bears another witticism of French's: "Remember me is all I ask, / And if that memory proves a task, forget". The song is a whimsical look at the styles, attitudes and fashions of late nineteenth-century London as seen from the point of view of an emigrant labourer from a village near the Mourne Mountains. It is written as a message to the narrator's true love at home. The "sweep down to the sea" refrain was inspired by the view of the mountains from Skerries in north County Dublin. [3] It contrasts the artificial attractions of the city with the more natural beauty of his homeland.