Catherine Greenan Loughran, John Loughran, Margaret Kane or Cain.

This picture is of my Great Great Grandmother Margaret Loughran (maiden name Kane or Cain) from Dunnamore, nr. Cookstown Northern Ireland. Her son John Loughran and his wife Catherine Greenan (my Great Grandparents) and  three of their daughters, Maggie, Katie and Rose.

Margaret ended up in Kilwinning living  with the family –  old people used to say “something happened”  which is code for marital problems which would account for her leaving Ireland and going to Kilwinning. She died in Kilwinning in 1908.  The family had a tradition of returning people to Ireland when they died so I don’t know if she is buried in Kilwinning or Ireland.


Here is another picture of Catherine Greenan Loughran as a young woman.

Here is a another picture of my Great Grandmother, Catherine Greenan Loughran (also pictured above). She lived in Kilwinning and had a really huge family with my Great Grandfather John Loughran.  They were intertwined with the Gartland family, another local family around North Ayrshire. Her daughter Mary married my Grandfather Andrew McTaggart.

She was well known locally as a ballroom dancer, the Barrfield Pavilion, Largs, was one of her places. They used to chalk the heels of her shoes.

She died in Ireland in the late 1920s/1930s, where she spent a lot of her time with John’s family and is buried in St Mary’s Churchyard, Dunnamore, nr Cookstown, Co. Tyrone, in an unmarked grave along with older members of John’s family. John was also taken back from Dalry and interred there when he died.

In this picture she is wearing the infamous sealskin coat which everyone fought over when she died. I believe it went to Anna Mariah Campbell, from Kilmarnock.

Catherine again in this one: Here she is feeding the chickens in Dunnamore, Tyrone Ireland

In this next picture she is wearing the infamous sealskin coat which everyone fought over when she died. I believe it went to Anna Mariah Campbell, from Kilmarnock.

That house was latterly owned by two old aunts and  is now a barn. In the 1990s I went there it was owned by Seamus Loughran (not a relative – at least not a close one anyway). My Loughran family were always referred to as Jo Hanna’s Loughrans because Hanna was another family name.  This is important because in order to identify the tribe, you need to know the nickname. There are no Jo Hanna’s Loughrans left in the area. 

 

(John Loughran in Kilwinning)

Here are other family photos taken in Dunnamore. 

John Loughran

St Mary’s Dunnamore

John and family

 

Witch Burning: Remembering Bessie Dunlop.

This is a poem I have written about Bessie Dunlop. A female burned as a witch, from Dalry.

Witch of Lynn, Dalry, arise
Return across our minds and skies
Free us from our bonds and chains
As deep divisions rise again

Banish sadness in your path
Hatred gone and Love at last
Minds of hatred let them rot
Come in peace Bessie Dunlop

Continue reading “Witch Burning: Remembering Bessie Dunlop.”

How the Longbar got it’s name.

I was trying to explain to a friend about the “Longbar”  when he asked me where the name came from.

It was built on top of another earlier group of houses known as “the Lambert”. Over time and with the number of folk moving in with different accents it then became known as the Lamber, then langbar wth the brogue northern Irish accent among others.

By the 1950s it had evolved into “Longbar” because people thought langbar referred to the Scottish word “lang” which meant “long” and the Government starting putting up signposts with the name.

If Kilbirnie Were a Harp…

If Kilbirnie were a harp with strings
I'd surely sweep a strain,
An everlasting melody
Which no man could restrain


I'd write a song of thanksgiving
Of peace and love and cheer
To bless the town with all its woes
Bring pleasure to their ears


I'd play the song on Knoxville road
And at the Walker Hall
I'd play it at the Labour club
While drunkards take their fall


I'd play the harp so silently
For those who hate the sound
To aid them out of hopelessness
To turn their lives around


I'd sweep a strain of sad refrain
At steel works passing by
I'd touch upon a melody
And older folks would cry


I'd play it softly at the match
While folks would cheer their team
And move along the park so long
To watch the Garnock stream


I'd play the harp across the tracks
As cyclists speed me by
I'd play and wait at graveyard's gates
For mourners with their sighs


I'd play it at the Garnock's heart
Right up at Jacob's Well,
where no one goes to see it flow
Or care to even tell


I'd play a tune right at the school
The Children would be pleased
I'd pass the harp to little ones
To hold upon their knees


So to the town with all my sounds
And everlasting strains
I leave the harp right at the cross
For others who remain


To strain their sounds of happiness
And hope for all the town
To watch it grow with sadness no!
As an everlasting crown.

Easter 2023

Easter 2023

A gentle rising over mountains and hills
The new, God filled mornings where birds gently shrill
Small new born lambs dance closely by mills
as Easter dawns upon Ayrshire

Sacred songs, worship, with words full of praise
In Churches surrounding the Largs hills and braes
Children hunt eggs and voices are raised
as Easter dawns upon Ayrshire 

Another ray shines, o'er  those still asleep
Hope for all people from the Great Mercy Seat
A baby is born, little feet, mothers weep
as Easter dawns upon Ayrshire

O'er darkened bleak  forests, beams shafts of white light
Laying beacons of hope, joys, filled with delight
The Saviour has risen, o Beautiful Sight
as Easter dawns upon Ayrshire

Every day of our lives we await his appearing
Through our darkened thoughts and opinions still seething
Power so Gentle and soft,ever nearing
as Easter dawns upon Ayrshire

Shining with hope for people oppressed
And those with anxiety, seeking some rest
Bringing peace to our town, all people are Blessed
as Easter dawns upon Ayrshire



Pillars of light upon earth's lofty shafts
Old time honoured rituals falling at last
A new Light is dawning and all are agast
as Easter dawns upon Ayrshire

An angel appears and rests on our thoughts
Like butterflies clinging to their earthly lot
Of Thoughts and Prayers higher than possessions sought
as Easter dawns upon Ayrshire

Joseph McTaggart