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A celebration of the 18th century Irish poet Brian Merriman and all aspects of Irish Language and culture.

Lisdoonvarna

This page contains an article on Lisdoonvarna, famous for its Spa, matchmaking, and the location of many Summer Schools.

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  1. Schools held in Lisdoonvarna
  2. The many aspects of Lisdoonvarna
  3. The Bog Road, Lisdoonvarna

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Schools in Lisdoonvarna

The following schools were held in Lisdoonvarna:

A Town of Many Aspects

Where is it? It is in the uplands of north west Co. Clare, on the edge of the extraordinary Burren country, only three miles from the Cliffs of Moher, that magnificent eight kilometre stretch of the Atlantic coast rising 600 feet above the sea; very respectable cliffs was Trollope’s understatement. It is a couple of miles from Doolin, haunt of aficionados of traditional music, and only a short drive from attractive villages such as Ballyvaughan, Corofin and Kilfenora, and eight miles north of Ennistymon, capital of West Clare.

By the beginning of the last century Lisdoonvarna had already won a reputation for matchmaking and as a favourite resort of priests. Over the previous 50 years the alleged curative properties of its waters had made it the lone survivor of a long list of Irish spa resorts. Something of this past can be seen in its three large Victorian hotels and in the Spa and Bath House, usually referred to as the Wells, and can be gleaned from well‑remembered descriptions of the atmosphere of long ago (such as where bank clerks pretend to be drunk and parish priests pretend to be sober). The continuing reputation for conviviality, now known familiarly, alas, as ’the craic’, is captured by Christy Moore in one of his great songs, Lisdoonvarna, while Francis A. Fahy’s The Bog Road, Lisdoonvarna merrily depicts the character of the place 100 years ago.

So, there are different Lisdoonvarnas: base for the botanist, geologist, and archaeologist exploring the Burren; in the month of September, mecca for the farmer after a busy harvest, and for singles in search of a partner, and for the round-the‑clock ballroom dancer. A few may still resort there to drink the waters and recover their health; the same waters are sometimes described as an excellent way of removing late night impurities from the system. Eighty years ago the resort was particularly favoured because of good nightly company and fireside conversation. Séamus Fenton in a chapter headed Lisdoonvarna: A Rural University (It all happened, 1948) wrote: Lisdoonvarna is a real Dáil Éireann for those who have eyes and ears trained to hear and see.

The Merriman Summer School has been held here over ten times and our version of Lisdoonvarna includes the joys of company, dancing, learning, conversation, and the exploration of the wonderland of north‑west Clare. In the matter of marriage, however, the spirit of Brian Merriman’s poem can be said to favour natural selection and the School takes no interest whatsoever in Lisdoonvarna’s tradition of matchmaking. In short we are neither for it nor against it!

One of Lisdoonvarna’s charms for Cumann Merriman is the sunny lecture hall with its excellent dance floor. It is situated in a pleasantly lush hollow, beside a fast‑flowing stream, sharing the space with the Bath House and Pump Room. The School spends at least five hours a day in this setting.

Will we see you there?

The Bog Road, Lisdoonvarna

By Francis A. Fahy

Could I travel afar now
From Bantry to Barna,
’Tis to Lisdoonvarna
My way I would find;

For there, one bright summer,
Myself, a new‑comer,
Found mirth, fun, and humour
That ne’er leaves my mind.

O! those who each season,
Without rhyme or reason
Cross far foreign seas on
To light the heart’s load,

Know nought of the pleasure,
Without stint or measure,
That waits them with leisure
Along the Bog Road.

All sorts and conditions,
All trades and positions,
Of men on all missions,
Are there to be found;

There are jobbers and teachers,
And pedlars and preachers,
And delicate creatures
From all Erin round;

There are blooming young maidens,
And hearts heavy laden,
And stout dames that no sign
Of fading yet showed;

While dearly‑dowered daughters
Are trying the waters,
And sighing for partners
Along the Bog Road.

’Tis there every morning,
Dull drowsiness scorning,
Stout lads without warning
Roam over the hills,

While matron and widdy
(Lamenting "poor Biddy")
Take draughts that would rid ye,
’Tis said, from all ills.

There farmers together
Discuss on the heather
The markets, the weather,
The last crop they sowed;

While children are sporting,
Young couples resorting
Are cosily courting
Along the Bog Road.

Of priests there’s a legion
From every known region,
The hotels besieging
For shakedowns in vain:

Dean, Bishop, and Canon,
From Liffey to Shannon,
For reasons no man on
This earth could explain;

Some quietly straying,
Their Offices saying,
Some jolly and gay in
The long cars a load;

Some solemnly stalking,
Some eagerly talking —
You’ll meet them all walking
Along the Bog Road.

Though bare are the bowers,
And faded the flowers,
And winter’s wild showers
Sweep over all Clare;

’Tis this very minute
I long to be in it,
My wish, could I win it
Would be to be there.

For she who has stolen
My heart and my soul in
These dear days is strolling
Down from her abode;

And I’d barter the city,
Its pomp and its pity,
One hour to be with her
Along the Bog Road.

More information about this town is available on Clare County Library’s website.

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