When you hear the word French, you probably don’t think of an Irish songwriter. And you probably don’t think of a song called Mountains O’Mourne. I think of both.

William Percy French was born in 1854 in County Roscommon, Ireland. He was a songwriter, author, poet, entertainer, and painter. One of his songs, Mountains O’Mourne, I have listened to and loved for years.

French didn’t start out to be a songwriter. He was attending Trinity College, studying to be a civil engineer. At that time there were events called smoking concerts, attended by men and featuring live music. For one such concert at Trinity, French wrote a humorous song called “Abdul Abulbul Amir.”

He graduated in 1881 and became a civil engineer employed by the Board of Works in County Cavan as an Inspector of Drains.

In 1883, there was a huge eruption of a volcano on the other side of the world. The volcano on the island of  Krakatoa threw vast amounts of ash high into the sky, which caused colorful, dramatic sunsets all over the world. Percy French, while traveling about County Cavan, inspecting drains, painted gorgeous watercolor landscapes, capturing the beauty of those sunsets.

In 1888, the  Board of Works reduced its staff and French was let go. He worked for a while as the editor of a weekly humor paper. When that failed, he became a full-time songwriter and entertainer. His specialty was comic songs. A few of his titles will give you the flavor of his work: Flanagan’s Flying Machine, The Night that Miss Cooney Eloped, and Mat Hannigan’s Aunt.

This brings us to Mountains O’Mourne. It’s so beautiful, you’d not think it’s a comic song. In fact, I knew the song for years before realizing it was comedy. I first discovered it on Don McLean’s fourth album, Playin’ Favorites, recorded in 1973.

The Mourne Mountains in Northern Ireland are one of the loveliest places on earth. They are not as tall as our White Mountains (Its highest peak is only a third as high as Mount Washington), but that makes them easier to traverse by car, bicycle, or on foot.

The song is in the form of a letter written by an Irish lad in London to his love back in Ireland. Each verse tells some unflattering aspect of life in London, and each verse ends with some variation of wanting to be back, “where the Mountains O’ Mourne sweep down to the sea.” (In some verses, it’s “where the dark Mournes sweep down to the sea.”)

There are many recordings of the song and many an Irish tenor has had a go at it. Even the Kingston Trio sang it. But for my money, few do it as well as Don McLean. His version is achingly beautiful, so I can be forgiven, perhaps, for thinking it was a love song.

You can find a recording of McLean’s version on YouTube, posted by Discover Ulster, with alluring photos of the Mournes. Percy French, I’m sure, would approve.

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