MKA Dingle An Daingean  In case you are wondering what the sign has to do with the lovely reminiscence of the Fifties in Dingle ;  

“On Easter Monday 2005 the Irish Government officially abolished the name Dingle.   The 2005 Placenames Order (backed up by the legislation of the 2002 Official Languages Act), decreed that henceforth Dingle shall no longer have any legal force or effect, it must not appear in Acts of the Oireachtas, Statutory Declarations,  Ordinance Survey Maps, Land Registry Maps or on any Local Authority road or street signposts.  The town is now officially known as “An Daingean”.   The effect of the Order was that Dingle, which is the largest Gaeltacht town in the Country, and totally dependent on tourism, was officially abolished and must henceforth be officially referred to, and signposted solely as “An Daingean”    Much controversy ensued and eventually in 2011,the Minister for the Environment said “An Daingean” would be dropped and replaced by “Daingean Uí Chúis” in Irish and “Dingle” in English – and this is what Máire refers to :-

Dingle, yera An Daingean,

Cad é an chúis?

Or what have they done to you now?

For its all in the game that they play with your name

Or is it progress washed up in the swell?

No need to shout from hilltop high,

Cnoc an Chairn or Conor Pass,

For you nestle in the jaws of the Bay,

Bothairín na Smaointe for many-a-one,

Country cabógs going up the high road,

Hands in their pockets chewing ciarógs


‘Sing it into the wind’, Hannah would say,

I trying to keep up beside her,

Up by Ashmount and the Hospital,

Calling into visit Peig Sayers maybe.

‘Cé tá agam anois?’ she would croon,

Finding my hand with twisted white fingers and rosary beads,

‘A Mhuire Mháthair, ar le Muirisheen í?’

Staring with unseeing eyes into mine in their tenth year;

White face framed in white lace shawl on white

Linen pillow,

White Sisters of Mercy silently tending,

No multi-resistant organisms then

In their carbolic heaven,

Quick visit,

No talk of Blasket or sentiment,

‘Happy day we left’ … Hannah would mutter

‘Ainish and uaigneas agus éist … Slán a Pheig,

a chroi’

Back the high road, timpeall Baile an Mhuilinn

Round by the quay greetings into Lynches as we passed

The boats might be in

‘Your Uncle Mike was out of his mind for the fish

Breed an Oileáin’,

Catch of the day le titim na hoíche


Oh Paddy the moon jump up, jump up

The plough and the stars why don’t you look up

Is cá bhuil na blianta,

Is cá bhuil na daoine,

Alive forever in my mind’s eye

Julia, Juleen and Katie bó Cat

Paddy Garry, for he made the world

Patrick, Mary Ellen and Mrs. O’Hare

Katie Kelly and Padneen too

Scanlons and Murphys and green half doors

Leading up to the Holy Stone

Garveys and Kennedys and Mary Rose

The smell of loaf bread in McCarthys

Next door there was Beedie and Johnny the post

Porter and shoes and school books piled

Three happy years in Dingle town


Yera An Daingean a bhí I gconaí ann

Was it Goat Street, Upper Main Street or Sráid na nGabhar

Or what do they call it now

The hum of Main Street on fair day

Tá aonach sa Daingean inniú

With pies and peas and men on their knees

The jobbers they lost and they won

The squeals of pig and horses hooves

Huddles and bolted in groups

Joe Curran’s yard they parked their carts

Creels of turf, hens and geese

Bicycle bits from Foxy John’s

Wellingtons paired slung over shoulders

The hay is saved, another year older

Buckets of fish in Green Street doorways

Maggie Begley and Katie Sarah’s for the sweets

Paddy Attie’s for the meat

Don’t run round the Canon’s Corner

Banter and chat in all who did greet

Shoe makers tapping and Singers sewing

Flannerys mending their nets


Islanders in from the Blaskets

Would gather in Beedies for pints

Íosa Críost, Cad é caint agus siosca

Agus Kruger if you don’t mind

In dark crew neck jumpers they gathered

For their numbers were dwindling fast

They talked of their loved ones in Springfield

Knowing they’d never come back

But now they were moved to the mainland

In boxes reluctantly settled

Some of them swore they never would move

They would carry on in the Lack

Row on in naomhógs whilst raven stays black

An tOileáinín sínte

Ag faire amach

No talk of flower or fauna then

The cry of the seal and ocean deep

The mother still weeps for her sons

No more Blasket sound –

Fifty years have come and gone

Is I gcónaí and fear a fás


Back up the street where old ghosts meet

Convent wall was our back wall

Fifty nuns within

Behind closed doors they enriched our souls

Opening up our tomorrows

We heard them pray and sing and laugh

Tending to the orchard

Finding their deep black pockets with apples and pears

Presenting into palms at the close of class

Knowledge in autumn

Armoured Seasoned

For life

Let us not forget them

Resting now in holy ground for they gave us much

Be you Dingle and tá tú An Daingean

The old pipe band still marches on

Tim Haley still beats the drum

Mikey Gerard softly flutes

Whilst Goat Street folk

Over heaven half doors

Watch and wave and salute.


MKA Dingle Boats


 MKA Blog Pres Conv Dingle