Its existence had escaped me until now, but it seems I owe a double apology to the reconstituted West Clare Railway, writes Frank McNally
The first apology is due because, in attempting to clear up confusion over Percy French's legal wrangle with its predecessor, I have instead added to it. The second is because, in encouraging contemporary song-writers to emulate French by writing satires about unreliable trains, I may have contributed unwittingly to the bane of West Clare rail-revivalists' lives.
It appears that a group of enthusiasts got together in Moyasta back in the 1980s and have since recreated a short section of the famous line. Now, a man called Richard Gair writes to tell me that, during the mere three years that he has been involved in the project, he has "seen nine newly written songs seriously attempting to satirise the railways in general and the West Clare in particular". He adds with feeling: "I know there are many more yet to come."
Mr Gair admits that the revived West Clare Railway trades on the notoriety of the original, and sometimes emulates its performance. Even so, the most he can hope is that my appeal for songs about the Dublin-Sligo train might have the effect of redirecting satirists, "so that we can be left alone". But I sense that this is a forlorn hope and that, deep down, he fears I have only encouraged the songwriters of Clare who, it is well known, need little encouragement.
As for French, the WCR, and the law, Richard confirms that there was no libel action over the song. There were two court cases, however, both in 1897. The first was initiated by the songwriter over the railway's failure, the previous August, to get him to his concert on time. The second was a failed appeal by the WCR against the £10 award in the first case.
During the appeal, the judge asked the plaintiff it were true that he had written a song about his experiences, whereupon French quoted some lines that do not appear in the well-known version. Presumably, this was an early draft. According to Berrie O'Neill of the Bangor-based Percy French Society, who has also been in touch to put me straight on the subject, the "Are You Right There, Michael?" known to posterity was probably written in 1902.
While we're setting the record straight, barrister John Freeman also writes to say he recalls coming across the French case - recorded in the Irish Law Reports of 1897 - "as an exception to the rule at common law that denies a plaintiff damages for distress, or loss of enjoyment arising from a breach of contract". He adds, interestingly, that the same edition of the reports features the case of a fishmonger travelling by the late train for a morning market, who was accidentally "shut into her carriage" overnight by the Waterford and Limerick Railway Company.
Mr Freeman says the woman "appears to have sued successfully. . .for losing her market, but there is no mention of any damages for distress". Those were more robust times than ours, clearly. Maybe she avenged herself by writing a song.
Speaking of which, I would like to thank the several people who have reminded me that there is at least one song in which the Dublin-Sligo train features. It's called The Scholar and, right enough, I remember Maura O'Connell singing it charmingly a few years back. Of course it is not mainly about the train, which is only a metaphor for the loneliness of a young girl going to and from boarding school.
Even so, the first verse notes that "the train from Sligo moves too slow", while a later verse suggests it "moves too fast". So that might serve as a comment on the unreliability of the engine, at least until a definitive satire on the subject emerges.
But wait. Even as we speak, the first response to my appeal to songwriters in the north-west has landed on my desk. It comes from Padraig McGinn in Carrick-on-Shannon, whose epic is called The Midnight Express - a pithy reference to the time at which last Sunday week's 5.05pm from Connolly finally reached Sligo.
Sung to the tune of another Percy French song, The Mountains of Mourne, it begins thus: "Oh Mary this train is a wonderful sight/ It leave Dublin at five and heads into the night./ It passes Drumcondra, Maynooth and Kilcock/ But a bit after Enfield you're in for a shock. . ."
All in all, it's a fine effort. And in retrospect, I congratulate Padraig on his restraint in using 29 verses fewer than the 36 I recommended. But in the light of Richard Gair's letter, I am also plagued by guilt at the song's sideways reference to the West Clare railway, which I now see is likely to become a standard feature of the genre.
We should not add any further to the suffering of the WCR revivalists and thereby perhaps discourage their worthy endeavours. So I hereby appeal to any songwriters who are still working on their epics at my behest to do as the Dublin-Sligo train sometimes does in the middle of nowhere, and stop now.