28. Bobby’s Britches

© Robbie O’Connell 1977 Slievenamon Music

The river Suir, Ireland’s third longest, flows 184 kilometers (114 miles) from the Devil’s Bit in North Tipperary into the Celtic Sea off Waterford. It is tidal to just above Carrick-on-Suir where the incident in this song occurred. It’s a true story that was passed down in my family about my uncle, Bobby Clancy, who was a bit of a Tom Sawyer in his youth.

Ormond Castle, a Norman keep with an attached Tudor House, had been the seat of the Butler family for hundreds of years. It was situated next to the river so that, at high tide, boats could enter the castle yard through a watergate. By the nineteen thirties, the Butlers had long since moved to a more commodious residence in Kilkenny and the castle was falling into ruin.

There was a traditional swimming hole nearby where the ladies of the castle could refresh themselves with the cool river water on a steamy summer’s day. It was known locally as “The Ladies’ Hole,” a name which delighted the adolescent boys of the town who, in the twentieth century had co-opted it as their own. Ireland was a very poor country back then and only the wealthy could afford the luxury of a bathing suit or a second pair of shoes. So swimming togs were not a requirement as it was sheltered by an abundance of sally trees¹ planted there for the use of local basketmakers.

One Sunday afternoon, in his haste to cool off, Bobby stripped at the water’s edge and dived in, oblivious to the rising tide. By the time he returned to land his britches were long gone downstream towards Waterford. Swimming nude was an accepted practice in those days but walking through the town in such a state was not. Bobby was trapped. One of his friends was sent home to William Street where there was no answer to his knock on the door, Bobby’s parents taking advantage of the empty house to take a “nap.” So when an upstairs window opened and a head popped out, the friend began shouting, “Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide, Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide,” until the whole street was alerted. It must have made a big impression on one of the neighbours because, for years afterwards, she could periodically be heard gleefully chanting the phrase in her back garden. That may well be the only reason that the story was never forgotten.

In the meantime, a couple of elderly ladies, out for an afternoon stroll, had come upon the scene and donated the loan of a coat so Bobby could preserve his modesty and get home. They were known locally as Browne’s Cows due to their habit of walking in single file rather than side by side, “All in a row, like Brown’s cows.” I was tempted to use their nickname in the song but I feared that it would be too confusing for non-locals.

There is another story from Bobby’s childhood that I love. He hated school and was always looking for an excuse to stay home either by feigning sickness or by some other ruse. One time he came up with a brilliant stratagem. He prized up a floorboard in the garret of his home, hid his shoes between the joists and nailed it down again. The next morning he claimed he couldn’t find his shoes anywhere. The house was searched from top to bottom but no shoes could be found anywhere. Bobby insisted that he couldn’t go to school in bare feet. He was savvy enough to know that his mother would be too embarrassed to let him go out without shoes. His plan was a success but the kicker was that the shoes were never again found.

Lyrics:

BOBBY’S BRITCHES

© Robbie O’Connell 1977 Slievenamon Music²

As Bobby was out for a stroll one day 
‘Twas down by the river he happened to stray,
And some of his friends were there having a swim, 
So he took off his clothes, and he jumped right in. 
He swam and he dived like a water-hen 
All around by the island and back again.
He lay down in the sun to dry his skin 
And he never noticed the tide coming in.

And Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
The water came in and just swept them aside
Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
What is he going to do, O?
					
And when he got up he thought all was well 
It was six o’clock, he could hear the bell
‘Twas time to be heading back home for tea 
But his britches was now gone half-way to the sea 
And not being one to admit defeat
A message was sent home to William Street
Where a head appeared from the bedroom window
And these words came up from the street below: 

Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
He just couldn’t catch them, however he tried
Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
What is he going to do, O?
					
But meanwhile fate had taken a hand 
Two old maids came walking along the strand.
Not wishing to be a witness to sin 
They gave him a cloak to cover his skin.
And Bobby went home and he hadn’t a care 
And all the people came out to stare.
It seemed as if the whole town had turned out 
And the woman next door, she began to shout 

Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
And Bobby’s gone into the bushes to hide
Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
What is he going to do, O?
					
And now the story has reached an end
No harm was done, and a lesson was learned
And Bobby still likes to go out for a swim 
But he always brings a spare britches with him
And the years came on and he passed away 
But no-one will ever forget that day
For every night that the moon was high
The woman next door could be heard to cry 

Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
The water came in and just swept them aside 
Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
What is he going to do, O?
Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
And Bobby’s gone into the bushes to hide
Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide 
What is he going to do, O?

1. Sally trees are overgrown willows whose latin name is salix. Basket makers would weave baskets and household goods from willow and hazel rods.

2. FROM CLOSE TO THE BONE Liner Notes:
One of Bobby Clancy’s exploits as a child, many of which have gone down in the family’s annals. The phrase “Bobby’s britches gone off in the tide” is still occasionally used to taunt him. I thought it would make a good chorus.

PRODUCTION INFORMATION
Robbie O’Connell: Vocals, Guitar, Mandolin
Roxanne O’Connell: Vocals
Tommy Keane: Uilleann Pipes, Tin Whistle, Low Whistle, Mandolin (Torn Petticoat and With Kitty I’ll Go For a Ramble), Vocals (A Week Before Easter)
Tom Phillips: Synthesizer
Arrangements by Robbie O’Connell, Tommy Keane, and Tom Phillips
Produced by Tom Phillips/Music Consultants
Recorded at Ivy Lane Studios, Hopkinton, Massachusetts
Sound Engineer, Larry Minnis