by Peg Prendeville

2024 is a leap year. In today’s modern world, women are free to propose to their partner whenever and however they want to. However, for centuries the role of proposing was solely reserved for men except on leap days when women could defy gender roles and get down on one knee for their partners. So Thursday is the woman’s chance if tired of waiting for the man to propose!

In Knockdown all the background work is taking place in preparation for the Patrick Langan Memorial Run on March 24th. This successful annual vintage day promises to be bigger than ever this year to honour Patrick who, with Dave Noonan, was the founder of the club. This year the proceeds are in aid of two very worthy charities: ​​Mid-Western Cancer Foundation UHL and

​​Parkinson’s Association of Ireland. (Mid-West Branch). All support will be appreciated.

RTE news last week had a few slots on the children who are waiting on operations for Scoliosis. My little grand-daughter, Lucy, who turns 11 years this week, was delighted to see her face on the television as she was among the group raising awareness of this awful situation. She is waiting to be given a date for her operation which is badly needed as her spine is now very curved as a result of being born with Spina Bifida. Hopefully this will be done sooner rather than later. It was sad to hear that for some children it is too late to have the operation, due to it not been done when it was really needed. Lucy, in spite of her disabilities, is a bright happy child who has great ambitions. Please God she will be enabled to fulfill her wishes.

The Kerryline is getting great attention this past week. Mike Ruttle, at the Ballyhahill Rambling House last week sang a song Paddy Faley wrote about The Sweet Kerryline. This was on top of my own attempt followed by George Langan’s poem. It seems it is dear to the hearts of many.


George Langan’s reply to Peg’s poem

from last weeks issue


Ah yes indeed Peg, the sweet Kerryline

Where oft-times we roamed, in the sweet summertime

Down the bog road, from your old mountain home

Where times long ago, the memories were sown

In that whitewashed house, humble and clear

Echoed the sounds, of laughter and cheer.

Where once was a bog-hole, there’s now a bright lake

The sign of the times, how my heart it dot break

And the well in the meadow, we can no longer see

Surrounded by spruce, and the conifer tree

God rest your dear gran, she was Bridge Faley White

Who worked like a beaver from morning till night

And the lads cutting turf, on the famous round bank

Bill, Paddy, Mick, Danny, and Danaher ‘The Yank’

Higgins and Langan’s, and the Falahee boys,

The Lynch’s and Dalton’s, those familiar eyes

Many years have since passed, since you moved away

But your heart still remains, where the grouse once held sway

Many neighbours are gone, but their presence remains

In that haven of peace, where love it sustains

And as the Kerryline carries us, both on our way

Within our young hearts we long for to stay

We remember the ‘Bard’, see the imprint of his toes

Inspiring us daily, these lines to compose.


George Langan