by Peg Prendeville

There is no news from Knockdown this week as Peg is taking a break.

She had the following poem published in the Athea Parish journal 2007

The Fair of Athea

The fourteenth of November the Fair Day of Athea

Was your mother’s birthday I heard family say

Everyone would be up at the first light of dawn

To head for the village while stifling a yawn.

The fair was a day when the village did reel

With the sound of hands slapping as bargains were sealed

So this year ‘twas decided to bring back the fair

After thirty odd years of it not being there

When first it was mooted it caused quite a giggle

Saying the fair is now dead and cannot be rekindled.

Ah but ‘tis there they were wrong for the fair is reborn

And the ones that were mocking are now being scorned.

From nine in the morning the street it was thronged

With vans, jeeps and trailers which all came along

Bringing their goods, their horses and all

The street it was lined with all kinds of stalls

Sure we thought we had died and all gone to Heaven

At the Fair of Athea in two thousand and seven.

We stepped over dung as we walked the footpaths

We gazed out in wonder as the horses clopped past

Heading to Browne’s at the top of the street

Where buyers and sellers did each other meet.

Tom Stack from Kilteery his bantams did bring

And I am sure that later on a song he did sing.

All kinds of goodies one could buy at the stalls

From bedwear to china, to tools and footballs

In the lounge at The Gables one could not find a space

Such was the amount of stuff in the place.

And the day was just starting; it was not yet quite eleven

At the Fair of Athea in two thousand and seven.

So here’s to the fair and more years to come

We hope ‘twill return with guaranteed fun

The children will once again squeal with delight

As they squirt with their guns from morn ‘til night

Next year ‘twill be back and the town will be revvin’

Like the tenth of November two thousand and seven