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athgarvan

The Thomas Moore Tavern

Tom Moore TavernComing home from my walk this afternoon I had my coffee in the Thomas Moore Tavern, in Cornmarket, in the centre of the town. It was built around 1750 which makes it one of Wexford’s oldest bars and is named after the renowned Irish Poet, Thomas Moore, whose parents once lived in it. The house remains significant for the historic connections with the Codd family including Anastasia Codd (d. pre-1836) who was the mother of Thomas Moore and is said to have been born in the building. Tom used refer to his grandfather as “my gouty old grandfather, Tom Codd,”

There was a building on the site as far back as the twelfth century and parts of the current building date back to the early 1700s. It was restored and renovated (2011) and the interior maintains a mixture of traditional yet contemporary design; 'authentic Victorian bar' etc.

The poet himself (1779-1852), of course, was born in his parents' pub in Aungier Street in Dublin which is still serving pints. His well-known Irish melodies (1807-1834) were songs of his own composition set to traditional Irish airs. There is also a Tom Moore Tavern in Bermuda which he visited (the island, I mean).

Comments

I don't think I've heard of him. I'm very ignorant of Irish poets.
Shame on you!
Fascinating. I would love some coffee or tea or brew there!
Why not the next time you come to Ireland's beautiful south-east. You will be very welcome.
I was in your lovely country two years ago and would so very much like to visit again. What a people, what a country, what a countryside.
When I remember all
The friends so link’d together,
I’ve seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather,
I feel like one,
Who treads alone.
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but be departed!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.

И когда я порой вспоминаю
Далеких друзей неразлучное племя,
Где они все теперь – я не знаю,
Улетели, как листья в холодное время.
А сам я, неведомый странник,
По жизни бреду, одинокий изгнанник.
Банкетный зал уж опустел,
Огни веселые потухли,
Гирлянды яркие пожухли,
И звон прощальный отзвенел.
Вот так в ночной тишине,
Пока сладкий сон не сморит,
Грустная память приходит ко мне
И со мной о былом говорит.
(перевод Ольги Стельмак)
"Oft in the Stilly Night". Thank you. How lovely to see it in Russian! I love all Moore's Melodies.
Not to be mistaken for the Thomas More who wrote a book about a perfect realm run by lawyers.
No, but of all the most beautiful melodies.
It must be so amazing to live amoungst such history. :o
Hugs, Jon
I learned a couple of Thomas More songs as a child. They were included in the New National Song Book which had English, Irish, Scottish and Welsh songs in it.
I've been to the one in Bermuda.
He is one of my favorite poets, so that is quite fascinating as I never knew those things about him.
Every time you post one of these things, I get the urge to pack everything and move to Ireland...