The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1881-02-18
An Irish Wake and Funeral.
A correspondent of the Baltimore s

A correspondent of the Baltimore San,
writing from Ireland, thus relates his ex-
periences at genuine Irish wake: /
had often heard of IN Irish wake, but
never was present Mt one until last night.
Arranging my garb so as not to be too
conspicuous, went with an escort to the
little farm house "where tue dead one
lay and tho living lamented," as pretty
scene. The locality was Clondalkin.
The dead one" was the only son of
widow. He had been village school
master in the neighborhood, and fingered
amidst the evils of consumption for
twenty-eight years, when that fatal
disease terminated in his early death.
The house was composed of two rooms
on the ground floor and two above. In
the lower ones all the arrangements for
the "waike" had been perfected. The
body was enshrouded and in plain pine
coffin. Around the head of the coffin
were crucifx, print Of "The Mother
of Sorrow" and two somewhat long and
lighted candles, and at the foot but one
candle. BY the side of the coffin sat the
widowed mother, also mother of sorrow.
On low stool she sat, rocking her bent
body to and fro, and alternately patting
her hands ON her knees as she gave ut
terance to q wall of woe. Occasionally
she would arise, look lovingly on the sad
white face of her darling boy gone,
and in agony let loose the floodgates OF
generously flowing heart. The surround
ing persons were entirely women, both
old and young. Sympathetic sorrow was
marked in every face, yet not an atom OF
dismal black mourning could L see.
Prayer book and rosary beads were III
the laps of each. After n severely i'm
pressive silence had prevailed for fully
half hour, little women of middle age,
with n deep dark pair of eyes and thin
scrawny face, well marked with the fur
rows of frowning rather than OF. time. be-
gan in montoneous, weird way, III
Se0ai-sOttO UOce notes, a species OF grief
and cultural sounds that were taken up
in n somewhat higher key by her COM
panions, and formed witch-like chorus
of "Ullah, ullah; ghola, ghola; ullah,
ghonaw This was the prelude to rude
sort of poetry or ''kDning" dirge-lke,
heroic impromptu poem In the modern
Celtic language. L sought an obscure
vet convenient cOrueT, unu W VIC pCo0 VI
my ability in phonetic power of pencil
took down these sounds. Later in the
evening, as 1 remained purposely, con-
versed with the little old k9ner, and
found her extremely shocked at my gross
ignorance of her poetry as noted in my
book. BY her aid 1 made n crude cor
rection of the so-called Celtic, as well as
translation, which, in part, Is as follows:
"And he is gone. sweet son and man,
IT'S now when he to Heaven goes
That angels rejoice and lovely appear.
He Is gone.
We are ely, cheated, deceived below;
He is proud above. above above!
He Is gone!
Obi coarse coffin that coops the body
OH tine Heaven that comforts tho soul.
He Is gone.
We do not entirely die below
We do live beyond abovei
He 10 gone!
OIL thou In manlness all Others excelling,
Now an angel within sweet gardenseiwelling.
The white-robed are listening TO thy voice,
OBJ let thy mother hear 1t, that she may rejoice.
lie Is gono!
Come O South wind laden sweet
From the fowry fond land
Come, that we may eat
Thy pleasant favored gifts within our cold re-
treat.