Margaret Barry

Margaret Barry

Margaret Barry sang to me On the radio, I was only three; Her voice was powerful and strong Her banjo just as loud, and wrong.

Me father saw her on the Royal He told me with his beaming smile: “She didn’t need the microphone, She brought the house down on her own”.

Chorus I hear her still on every street The soft slow shuffle of her feet, Although I’d really never seen Her pass, her Mantle o So Green. And if she were alive today I’d go right up to her and say: “T’was you I heard so long ago I just thought that you’d like to know — Margaret Barry”.

Margaret Barry still sings there At every travelling show and fair; Her bike is leaning by some wall She sings again, a noble call.

Her voice is resting in the stones, Although the angels have her bones, Her soul still lingers at the fair Her songs still echo ever where.

Chorus I hear her still on every street The song is sung, the day replete, Her ghost is standing by the wall Waiting for that noble call. And if she were alive today, I’d go right up to her and say: “T’was you I heard so long ago I just thought that you’d like to know — Margaret Barry”.

— © Frank Callery