The Slopes of Sweet Cloonee By Mattie Lennon 
I was born near Ballyagran In eighteen ninety-nine. My childhood lacked in nothing, And happiness was mine I'd Master Quill as teacher, Idyllic times for me Preparing for a lifetime On the slopes of sweet Cloonee. 
went to sea, aged twenty, Saw Capetown far away Sailed up the Gulf of Aden, Knew nightlife in Bombay. To Madras,Durban,Beira I cruised the distant sea But my heart was back in Limerick On the slopes of sweet Cloonee. 
Now free from exile's tears I did my bit for Ireland, With the local Volunteers. We drilled on nearby hillsides Those brave young men and me And struck a blow for freedom, On the slopes of sweet Cloonee.< 
When taking sides was hard I made a bold decision And became a Civic Guard. To my fledgling State, an asset I thought I now could be, And applied the moral values, Which I'd learned in sweet Cloonee 
I quickly gained promotion As at every task I'd strive And attained the grade of " Super" At the age of twenty-five. Subordinates and leaders, It seemed, had faith in me I swore I wouldn't fail them, As a son of sweet Cloonee. 
In Kilrush I got the message; "Go into Ennis town, The Commissioner is waiting He's going to dress you down" The tidings seemed incongruous And truly baffled me, But I went to face the music Like a brave son of Cloonee faced by Eoin O ':Duffy  

Irish Song Lyrics 
from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
My hurt I can't describe. He told me; "You're a traitor We know you took the bribe" He claimed subversives tendered One hundred pounds to me. As I thought of honest rearing, On the slopes of sweet Cloonee. 
pockets searched by Neligan And my lodgings rifled through, I was pointed out a scoundrel, To comrades old and new. 'Though innocent I went in shame My loyal kin to see; A guiltless man, to hang his head On the slopes of sweet Cloonee 
Long before his Blueshirt game Would grant to me no hearing, Or chance to clear my name. No enquiry or tribunal Or trial fair for me. Dismissed, guilt-free and humbled Was young Geary from Cloonee 
packed my bags for the USA In November twenty-eight, And told my loved-ones tearfully As we parted at the gate; "Unless I'm cleared I won't be back, You've seen the last of me. 'Though it breaks my hearth to say goodbye To my childhood home, Cloonee." 
fought my case, a lifetime With conviction, hope and rage. I'm here in New York city now, At a hundred years of age. I've just got news from Ireland, It's music sweet to me. My name is cleared, I've won the day And I'm proud for sweet Cloonee 
The decades seem to have melted, As I bask in mirth profound My pension has been granted With fifty thousand pounds. The Government in Dublin At last has come to see That I was clean and blameless When hunted from Cloonee 
I hope to see Saint Michaels Church Once more before I die. And those two graves in Newtown 
Where my loving parents lie, The sunrise over Feenagh Which oft inspired me, When the river Mague and life ran smooth By the slopes of sweet Cloonee. 
My wish may not be granted If the Lord has other plans. Then I'll die with full acceptance And leave it in His hands. But I'll ask you to remember And say a Prayer for me. Kind friends please God, will lay my bones Near the slopes of sweet Cloonee