TRADITIONAL IRISH PUB - CASTLETOWNBERE, BEARA PENINSULA, WEST CORK, IRELAND
There was a West Corkonian man...
Brendan Flood, from Dalkey, Co Dublin, rewrote the lyrics of the traditional Irish-Australian ballad ‘The Wild Colonial Boy’ as a tribute to Dr Aidan MacCarthy, and, in June 2017, sent them to Adrienne and NIki MacCarthy.
A member of the Dalkey Active Retirement Association, Brendan wrote: ‘Recently, I read of the truly remarkable life led by Dr Aidan. We had been given a task to write a song, libretto, etc. The enclosed was my effort, The Ballad of Aidan MacCarthy. It was well received at our reading and the suggestion was made that I should copy it to your good selves.’
* From left: D F and Julia McCarthy,
D F in later life, Aidan and Kathleen on their wedding day in 1948, and Niki and Adrienne new in the world.
There was a West Corkonian man, MacCarthy was his name
A native of Berehaven, a town of sailing fame
He was his mother’s only son, his father’s pride and joy
So to the woods of Clongowes went – the West Corkonian boy
At the youthful age of 17 he went to UCC
He qualified at 25 with a medical degree
There were no jobs in ’39 in Ireland due to war
So off to England he did go to join the Flying Corps
They packed him off to La Belle France for action he did thirst
The Germans pushed them back to sea in a port they call Dunkirk
He got aboard a boat with men all broken, tired and hurt
A U-boat then torpedoed them and tossed them in the surf
He tended to the injured, the dying and the burnt
The badly damaged small boat it did remain afloat
Through gale force 8 in Dover Strait continued with his work
They reached the shore and thanked once more the wizard doc
from Cork
Returned to base, another case of heroism rose
A mighty sound was heard around, a homeward bomber chose
To land that night, had lost its flight before its engine blows
It split in two, its wings askew, a victim of its foes
Without a care Aidan did dare to dash into the wreck
To rescue crew before bombs blew and sent them all to heck
This act so brave that he did save lives and then did forge
His name in fame amid acclaim – prestigious medal George
He then went east but met a beast as he left Singapore
Sumatra bound, was quickly found by Japanese who bore
No love for Brits who pit their wits in camps to stay alive
They did there savour, the force of labour and cruelty survive
Three years he spent in Java camps, no end in sight to see
The prisoners all were rounded up and put collectively
Into a ship which failed to slip by Americans at sea
Hit by a shell into the swell, internees now were free
​
Left there to drown MacCarthy found a piece of wood debris
Against the sky it caught his eye, a trawler boat of three
They heard his pleas, were Japanese, these farmers of the sea
They took him home across the foam to base – Nagasaki
​
March ’45 he was still alive in camps of forced labour
Marines, US, and then God bless, a tip-off from a neighbour
‘Look to the sky and if you spy a jetstream run for cover’
He made a dash, a mighty flash, and then the war was over
A dreadful dearth, in this scorched earth, of any creature living
The blister’s pain, mixed with black rain, it was the devil’s bidding
Although quite frail, he did not fail to tender to the sick
Post atom bomb, with great aplomb, the victims he did fix
The prisoners free, with vengeful glee began to kill the guards
MacCarthy, doc, got quite a shock, he saw them all as cowards
The camp CO he hid and so his murder did prevent
With his life saved, the CO gave his sword as a present
The next three years, mid toil and tears, he earned an OBE
A London home, no more to roam, set up a surgery
In National Health there was no wealth but he was quite happy
At 81, to the setting sun, last words – ‘I was lucky’
Brendan Flood, 2017
The Ballad of Aidan MacCarthy (to the traditional air of ‘The Wild Colonial Boy’)