Upstairs at Downey’s

 

Downey’s is a place I’ve been before. The craic is grand and the session playing is spontaneous and authentic. It is the place in Dungarvan that is best known by outsiders as a U2 bar, where the band has visited, and “your man” Bono has been more than once.  In Dungarvan itself, it may be best known for its warm hospitality and a tradition of “bucket singing.”  That is something I may have time to get to in the future.  I can tell you are intrigued.  Right now, I’m interested in telling you about upstairs at Downey’s.  I’ve never been upstairs before last evening.  It seems on Tuesday nights a group gathers upstairs to recite poetry, sing songs, and tell stories. A colleague of mine from Mercyhurst and I had the honor and privilege of being invited upstairs to witness it for ourselves.  To me, it was magical.

Mr. Power, a family name well known in the area as one-time brewers and many times voice of Irish patriotism, was the master of ceremonies. To get us started, he recited two Shakespearian soliloquies in dramatic fashion including from Richard III:

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;

Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Of course he recited the full version.  We also heard a sonnet recited by a young man, some poetry recited in Irish by an older gentleman, a song by Sarah McLauchlan sung by a visiting young lady, and some original compositions by others as the guitar was passed around the group.  What a beautiful and meaningful way to cap off our first full day in Dungarvan. My hope is there will be many more opportunities to go upstairs at Downey’s on a Tuesday evening.  When the time comes, maybe I’ll even have the moxie to recite.