Actor Chris O’Dowd pens an ode to his home town

An evening filled with colour, excitement, and old friends meeting up in Boyle was topped off by the presence of Hollywood celebrity and hometown actor, comedian and screenwriter Chris O’Dowd. He was in town with his wife Dawn O’Porter and two sons to officially launch the 34th Boyle Arts Festival.

Regarded as a great ambassador for the town, locals and visitors alike turned out in huge numbers to welcome him back home.

Encouraging people to “get their arts down to Boyle,” he recalled his time growing up in the North Roscommon town and the influence the festival had on him during his early years.

To mark the occasion he wrote a “a short commencement poem as my way of offering a little gift to the festival”.

Bring us to the Boyle 

A poem for the day that's in it.

A verse or three, a pregnant sonnet. It's cheeky, but lyrical but now we're upon it.

A few words for Boyle if you might. Want it? Friends, Brogans, county men lend me your hearts for a week and a half.

Let's think with our hearts, a festival's home is an essential factor, you simply must have a town of great character.

Were formed by the elements, that's what it said. They shape us and drape us for the long road ahead.

The northwest is fertile, but that's not far from a curse, we're dressed for the arts, many have it worse. Because it's not the wind, nor the hail that carls us thus, but the human element with the local pulse.

The timeless chatter of a market site with the element passed down is talking pure shite. The Abbey's green Lady Bhan, the Rock of Doon from these rooms were born Cartoon Saloon and Martin Moon.

Local legends near and far retold by local legends propping up the bar. A few of them are here today, thank God, selling sculptures and landscapes out of the back of their cars.

Shop fronts all shimmering with artwork galore, while your grannies at Saint Joseph’s spinning the floor. It's like the Louvre there on Bridge St. and Dodd’s is the spot for reels in the evening and maybe a drop.

There are painters and creations and fiddlers on Shilling Hill, and there's an opera as epic as Carmen every week above in Tarmon. There are jugglers down in Abbey Park and the magicians in Daly’s after it gets dark.

And in the House of Kings, an impossible mission, you'll rarely find a finer main exhibition.

Yes, a week of the art sounds more than alright. There won't be an easel scrubbed in Roscommon tonight. The festival’s here so join us, you fool ye. Get your arts down to Mainistir na Búille.