The last time I spoke to Bull Moore was at the annual Blessing of the Boats ceremony at Howth harbour earlier this year. It was an appropriate venue, for Bull had been a sailor all his life and the sea was in his blood.
He came from a family of fishermen who had worked the trawlers out of Howth for generations. As soon as he left school, it was to the sea he went to earn his living. Later, he was to work for a while on the B and I ferries, but he was made redundant and went back again to fishing.
Bull was a much-revered figure among the community of Howth. He was cherished for his decency and his loyalty and his big heart. He loved the sea and he loved to sing about it. I first encountered him in the Lighthouse pub many years ago, at one of those cosy traditional music sessions that make Howth unique among the villages of Dublin. Bull had a vast repertoire of songs about seafaring and the joys and hardships of the sailor's life. He had only to sit down at a music session for the event to catch fire.
He began his public singing career with Snowy and Paul McLaughlin, Leo Rickard and Collie Moore in the Howth folk group Clann Eadair. But his irrepressible humour and penchant for joking quickly led the wags to dub the group "Clown Eadair" whenever Bull appeared. On Christmas Eve a few years ago, he raised money for charity by singing 101 different songs over a 12hour period in the local hostelries. This year, he planned to beat this record by singing 201 songs. But sadly, he didn't live to achieve it.
Bull was a relatively young man when he died. He was only 53. But he had crammed into those years more living than most men. The breadth of his friendships was evident from the huge attendances at the Church of the Assumption for his removal and funeral. Old comrades came from the fishing ports of Ireland and beyond and his musician friends played haunting sea songs at the moving services.
To his wife, Catherine; children, Jenny, Linda, Lorraine, Celine and Brendan; his brothers, sister and extended family, we offer our heartfelt sympathy.
Farewell my old shipmates,
I'm taking a trip, mates,
And I'll see you some day in Fiddlers' Green.