Molly Bawn- Bess Cronin (Cork) c1951 REC
[Elizabeth "Bess" Cronin (née Ó hIarlaithe) (1879 – 1956) was an Irish singer who specialized in traditional ("trad") music.
Born in West Cork, the daughter of Seán Ó hIarlaithe, a schoolteacher, she lived in the Baile Bhuirne area all her life. She spent her teenage years on her uncle's farm nearby. She married Seán Ó Croinin and they lived at Carraig an Adhmaid, Ballymakeera. The area was rich in traditional culture and music, and songs had been collected in the area for a long period and she became well known for the depth of her familiarity with the genre and for the quality of her songs and lore (in both English and Irish). Among the collectors of her work were Seán Ó Cuill and A. Martin Freeman, compiler of the famous Ballyvourney Collection.
Cronin was recorded by Séamus Ennis in 1947 and 1952.
Notes by Seamus Ennis and Alan Lomax 1951:
The next day we traveled to Ballymakeery, a little town above Macroom, to see old Mrs. Cronin. Aged 70 at the time, she was small and full of vinegar. A long-time widow, she wore nothing but black. She had a high, dusty speaking voice with a thick Cork brogue, very up and down, and a dry sense of humor. "Oh yes, people love my songs - one English lady was so grateful she sent me a brooch from London, but it was so heavy it near made me fall on my face." She told us she had learned many of her songs from the servants. Since at that time she was living in a tiny cottage with one of her sons, a large sow, and some chickens, she must have seen grander times in earlier days.
MOLLY BAWN From the singing of Elizabeth Cronin
Jimmy went out fowling with his gun in his hand
Fowling all day, as you may understand.
His sweetheart being out walking, he took her for a swan
And he shot his Molly Bawn at the setting of the sun.
Jimmy went home with his gun in his hand
Sad and broken-hearted, as you may understand.
Saying," Father, dearest father, you know what I have done?
I have shot my Molly Bawn at the setting of the sun,
Then up and spoke his father, although his locks were grey,
Saying," Son, dearest son, do you not think of going away.
Stay in this country until your trial is on,
And you never will be hanged for the shooting of a swan."
Molly, dearest Molly, you're my joy and heart's delight,
And if you had lived, my dear, I'd make you my bride.
But now, as you are gone to me, I'll sail away and mourn
And soon I will be following you, My own Molly Bawn.
It was in three weeks after, to her father she appeared.
Saying, "Father, dearest father, don't think to shoot my dear
My white apron being around me, he took me for a swan
And he shot his Molly Bawn at the setting of the sun.