(William) Percy French (1 May 1854 – 24 January 1920) was one of Ireland's foremost songwriters and entertainers in his day. In more recent times, he has become recognised for his watercolour paintings as well.
French was born at Cloonyquin House, near Tulsk, County Roscommon, the son of an Anglo-Irish landlord. He was educated at Foyle College, Derry, and wrote his first successful song while studying at Trinity College Dublin (TCD) in 1877 for a "smoking concert". The song Abdul Abulbul Amir was sold for £5 to an unscrupulous publisher. The song later became hugely popular and was falsely claimed by other authors.
He graduated from TCD as a civil engineer in 1881 and joined the Board of Works in County Cavan as an "Inspector of Drains". It is said that he wrote his best songs during this period. He also painted: French was a prolific painter of landscape watercolours and during this period considered art to be his true vocation. In fact, when he became well-known later in his life, his paintings from his time as a civil engineer became fashionable and sought after. When the Board reduced its staff around 1887, French turned to journalism as the editor of The Jarvey, a weekly comic paper. When the paper failed, French's long and successful career as a songwriter and entertainer began. Around this time he married Ethel (Ettie) Kathleen Armitage-Moore (b. 1871), second daughter of William Armytage-Moore, brother of Countess of Annesley, (wife of the Third Earl). But she (and her daughter) died in childbirth at the age of 20.
The Mountains of Mourne
(Words by Percy French, ca 1900. Melody trad.)
Oh Mary, this London's a wonderful sight,
With people here working by day and by night.
They don't sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat
But there's gangs of them diggin' for gold in the street.
At least, when I asked them that's what I was told
So I just took a hand at this diggin' for gold;
But for all that I've found there, I might as well be
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed
As to how the fine lAdies of London are dressed.
Well if you believe me, when asked to a ball
They don't wear no tops to their dresses at all.
Oh, I've seen them myself and you could not, in thrath
(truth)
Say if they were bound for a ball, or a bath,
Don't be startin' them fashions now, Mary Machree,
Where the etc.
I've seen England's king from the top of a bus
And I've never known him, but he means to know us.
And tho' by the Saxon we once were oppressed,
Still I cheered, God forgive me, I cheered with the rest.
And now that he's visited Erin's green shore
We'll be much better friends than we've been heretofore
When we've got all we want, we're as quiet as can be
Where the etc.
You remember young Peter O'Loughlin of course
Well now he is here at the head of the Force.
I met him today, I was crossing the Strand
And he stopped the whole street with a wave of his hand.
And there we stood talking of days that are gone
While the whole population of London looked on;
But for all these great powers, he's wishful, like me
To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea.
There's beautiful girls here --- Oh, never you mind ---
With beautiful shapes nature never designed.
And lovely complexions all roses and cream,
But O'Loughlin remarked with regard to the same
That if at those roses you venture to sip
The colors might all come away on your lip
So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waitin' for me
Where the etc.
recorded by Kendall Morse
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