Sunday, October 13, 2013

   part one
She stepped outside for a smoke.  While she
was gone there was a whisper of wind in the
eves, then it became a howl.
Worried, I looked out and she slammed the door
in my face.   Then it struck.
The house shook and rattled---- she pounded on
the door, violently. Bangng, banging, crashing.
Racing to the door, the door flew open before I could
reach it----- she was gone.
As a violent wind tore at the house, screaming as
that of a tortured banshee.  The lights went out.
poles down, power off.  The screaming wind a
crescendo in the darkness---- faintly as in  a great
distance, her voice, above the terrible storm, a faint
almost imperceptible human penetrating the curse.
Grieving for her, lost in the violence and the dark,
the boat, what can be happening to our beloved
boat lashed to the dock of the bay ?
Armed with a flashlight, struggling to stand-----
there she was crashing against the dock, horrible
noise filling the rainsoaked wind and above the
sounds of the storm her voice faintly, ever so
faint, through the howling , tearing sounds of the
night.  H e l  p   m e..........

Saturday, April 27, 2013



A Poem by Eagle Cruagh

Release from the grasp of dark and cloying minds ---


Would but the world to ramble

Not a rumble to be seen

A warm and rosy sunshine

The world a tender place to be

No judgment in the weather

Pit Bulls have released their hold

Life`s a ramble in the heather

Breathe the cleansing cold

Gone annoyance of old leather

Made to bind and hold

None but tendrils of new blossoms

Gone thoughts of getting old

Redundant stuff from darkness

Of old closed minds and mold

God thank You for this moment

Embracing freedom that is gold

---- Eagle Cruagh



This Poem is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.


Grandma`s sitting at the bar
Nobody near this chick
With her gray hair
And a little beard
Wonder what she`s do`n there

Have `nother drink Fred
`stoo early to go to bed
Check that blonde with th
Old guy over there
Bet she wishes he was dead

The band plays smash and grab
Romeos are dance`n like they
Was mad
All the girls look pretty good
But it`s early Bud me lad

Then bar-kee yells last call
Where`d the time go ?
Grab yur drink and swill it all
Gotta git more y`all
Where`s all the girls ya know

They`re all down by the door
Just stand`n there in a row
Wander by and look ,there`s Grandma
Only she`s a smashing blonde
Arm and arm she goes

Grandma hooked a kid
Young sailor by his looks
He thinks she`s twenty two
Gett`n younger too
Out the door they stumble

Marilyn Monroe has got my arm
Dang she`s nice and warm
Where you been all night I ask
And she`s just fulla charm
On the other side is Julie Juice

Man its great to rule the roost
Women fight`n fur my love
Every one winner of a beauty cup
Oh, the girls all get prettier at closing time
And every one is hook`n up

---- Eagle Cruagh

Thursday, April 25, 2013




A Poem by Eagle Cruagh

A cow`s vendetta against a small boy


Some said she was spawn of satan, but I know different,

I know that old cow was satan himself.

She had to been the onriest critter that ever appeared on

this planet.

I can still see me run’n when I was jist so high, my fat

little legs churn’n, run’n bent for leather to get away from

her. That ole longhorn eyes blaz’n fire, snort’n smoke and

ashes and boy was she after me.

I wandered out by the bunkhouse one day and ‘for I knowed what was happen’n she was make’n hay.

I made the house and the screen door slammed and the

earth shook as she pawed the ground and bellowed.

I just hid under the kitchen table and shook.

She was a caution, hell on hooves they said.

One day I had to go, you know, natures thing

I’m sitt’n on my haunches, careful not to sit on my spurs

down by the cottonwoods, out of harm’s way I thought

chew’n on a blade of grass, swatt’n an occasional fly off

my bare ass and I heard what sounded like thunder off a

ways, it was down by them thar bushes in the creek bed

that-a-way , then it turned in to bushes crash’n and I’m

gitt’n pretty scared, start to pull up my pants and --- too

late it’s that ole Mexican Longhorn and she sees me.

Shirt tail fly’n straight out behind, spurs sing’n a song,

I race for that bunkhouse but the trail is too damn long.

Just short of the door, in an old hog waller, I trip on a

spur and go full length in to that mud. Can you just

see it now? My pants down around my knees, knee deep

in mud, flat on my face, that damn Mexican Longhorn won’t

even touch me there.

I hear her off in the trees, snort’n , paw’n the ground, but

made it in to the bunkhouse and sorta got cleaned up.

It’s been come’n on for a long time now and this is the day.

Got down my ole 30-30, walk out and I’m gonna shoot that cow. I start for the bank of trees. Damn if she did’n see

me first and I thot it was the end of the earth.

The ground shook and wind roared as that ole Mexican cow

came out of them trees. I take one look and I turn tail and

run. In seconds flat, one of them long horns caught me by

the pants and next thing I know I’m fly’n through the air,

splash’n in that hog waller again.

Next fall came and went and I found out later that old Mexican Longhorn got rounded up with a bunch of yearling

steers and went off to Sooo City. Probably been ground up

for a joosey MacDonald’s and none too soon I guess.

First time I ever went to church, was in the city one day and

pass’n one of them Cathedrals I just had to stop and pray.

Deer Lord I just wanta thank ye for save’n me . You took

care of satan a while back jist when my luck was run’n out.

Thanks lord, she’d a got me fer sure if you hadn't stepped

in and took her out.

------Eagle Cruagh



A Poem by Eagle Cruagh

A look at beauty and where you find it .

What is Beauty ?

Awwww ! you know ,we see it everywhere

She is beauty and she is near

Who is beauty ?

It is she, herself, near me

My world, my dear

What ? you spoke of beauty ?

Of course and where ?

Looking up at her like in to heaven

And she who brings me there

Describe her

Certainly , catch an Angel

Bring me the wings

For I need gossamer things

Let me see a child at play

And you have seen all I can say

What about Beauty ?

I don`t know, I am mortal you know

She is my girl that`s plain to see

And there you have it , beauty

I know what she brings to me

An angel`s voice with silky wings

And a lovely shape and other things

But all is wasted , deep down, more

Unless you hear the tortured soul

That grieves for life and loves the poor

She is pathos, empathy, love

But that is empty as sky above

What is beauty, a loving way

Loving God as he looks today

Abiding you and loving me, hey

That may be beauty but who can say

For mortal man to describe his girl

Is like forcing ocean waves to curl

Who am I to write this way

About such an indescribable play

Tripping across her features when she smiles

Gazing out across the miles of breathless

Plains filled with the treasure of God

And back to hold his leaves of grass

Not yet touching , not near , always less

For no man yet has even closed this wondrous scene

This realm of man and yet not touched

A hint perhaps, but still unseen

Describe beauty in a little smile a tiny curl

You see, beauty is my girl

-----Eagle Cruagh

© 2013 Eagle Cruagh



A Poem by Eagle Cruagh


This Poem is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.


A Poem by Eagle Cruagh

symbolic look at love .


This Poem is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.


My eyes caress her smiling face

From down by dimpled knee

I stare up into such loving grace

That sighing surrendered all to me

Hot, generous , sultry eyes

Into those eyes I stare

While up into my living ties

With sighs my soul is bare

Wet moist parted lips

Inviting me to dine

I hesitate then my face dips

For the Angel now is mine

She loves me I can tell

Her eyes sleepy beg my time

For I can please her and so well

I learned with her in our prime

----- Eagle Cruagh



A Poem by Eagle Cruagh

Looking inward and behind.


I tried to write a poem

Because my love she asked me too

She said , "my love, please write for me"

"You say such pretty things

And when we pass from this sweet life

Your thoughts nostalgia brings"

Suddenly her fragrance fills me

Like she is in the room

I close my eyes and flowers bloom

Like photo`s in the air

My sweet fair love reclining now

Like nostalgia , but she is there

Shaking cobwebs from my brain

The mist of coming rain

Morning dew from a lowly branch

Fluttering wings of dove

You live in these and other things

My angel from above

How to make you understand

That life without you would end

You are my sweet eternal love

Our tenderness in all travail

With the certainty of a river`s bend

You rise before me frail

I hope you understand my Sweet

Mere words cannot replace

The warmth we hold so dear

The veils of heaven and the corridors

Of hell will never make this clear

I`m you`re canvas and you`re my lace

---- Eagle Cruagh

Thursday, March 28, 2013


Normally you would throw a bedroll

in the pick up and go back to the

bunk house for the night.

Today the pickup is broke so you

saddle old blue and leadn old sam

head out for a day of fence fix`n.

By the time you fixed the first mile or

so, the sun`s hang`n on the horizon, you

hobble the horses. No hobbles ? Then

use a ragged piece of rope to tie their

front legs together so they can graze

but won`t run off during the night.

It`s dark. Find a level place, roll out the

bed roll (two blankets and a piece of canvas)

maken sure all the edges are underneath

so the critters will stay out , cause you are

warm and they will want to sleep with you.

Then you crawl in, first maken sure to fold

back the canvas a foot or so. The rattle

snakes like to coil up on top of you during

the night.

First thing in the morning you throw back

the bed and jump away fast in case that

rattlen and buzz`n is what you think it is.

You got some coffee grounds in the saddle

bags and you brought an old can----add a

little water and a couple of prairie chicken

eggs and get set for a hearty breakfast.

Catch old blue and try to step on , like they

do in the movies, but he has other ideas,

whirls and tries to kick your head off.

Finally you get aboard and he takes off,

buck`n his fool head off.

After try`n to kill you he settles down and you

run across a couple of strays that have to be

trailed back to the herd. By then it`s getting

toward noon and you head back to the ranch

cause that is where they keep food.

A good thing they are not pay`n you a lot of

money. All you got done was mend a couple

holes in the fence, get nearly killed,sweat a

lot and now you gotta rush back to where they

keep the food.

Dayam ! Aint this romantic ?

---- Eagle Cruagh


This is the deal:

I own an old GOLD MINE

It is  on my property and I own it outright.
How do I sell shares in this mine.
The shares would be sold on line, through
the web site :  EAGLE CRUAGH. COM

Any ideas---- Leave your idea right here.

---- John Crowley ----- >  EAGLE CRUAGH. COM

Wednesday, March 13, 2013


Lure of the Gold

Goodbye Muirsheen Durkin sure I’m sick and tired of workin’

No more I’ll dig the praties, no longer I’ll be fooled

For sure’s me name is Carney I’ll be off to California

Where instead of diggin’ praties I’ll be diggin’ lumps of gold

- Irish folk song ‘Muirsheen Durkin’.


I have a GOLD MINE--- No ! I am not kidding .

Down in my pasture is an old GOLD MINE.
It is called the JACKSON MINE.  30 years ago
when I bought the little ranch I asked about it,
but there was very little local information.

Now---- with gold at $2000 dollars per ounce, I have
to ask myself---- why in hell am I not working it, or
leasing it out, or selling shares, or selling the ranch
with the gold mine on it----- why ?

When I first came here I examined the Gold Mine.
It at one time had a tunnel, supposedly connecting to
the vein of the BLUE GRAVEL MINE.  The tunnel
allegedly ran under my house , through the hill and
out the other side to the BLUE GRAVEL MINE.

Accoding to stuff I have heard, the BLUE GRAVEL
was at one time,  before hydraulic mining was
outlawed, one of the richest GOLD MINES in this

I kicked a few pieces of quartz down by where the
old stamp mill used to run and there were veins of
gold in the quartz.  Back then nobody was interested
in a vein of gold , a nugget maybe, but not a vein.

My kids have never been interested.  I have always
tended to be a little lazy, or interested in crazy things
like writing ---- so, that is how this went.

Now I am going to find out------ How much is GOLD
and why am I just sitting on this.

More about this GOLD MINE --- I`ll ask Google.....

-----  Eagle Cruagh

Friday, February 8, 2013



There are numerous scarabs. Some are
a kind of beetle, others, speed boats.

The Scarab we discovered was about 35`

in length, probably had a couple of 450 H.P.

engines and was designed for the purpose

of racing in the ocean.

My son, Sean and I sailed a little 27` Catalina

sailboat. We had been anchored off Angel

Island in the San Francisco Bay. We had

run our little dinghy to the beach and spent

most of the day hiking and site seeing on

the island.

In mid-afternoon storm clouds started rolling

in over the Golden Gate bridge. It looked

ominous, so we decided to get out of the bay

and fast.

Back on Xena, while Sean cranked up the

anchor and I raised the main and a jib, the storm

moved in. We just barely cleared the tip of

the island when it hit.

Winds of somewhere around 40 knots, swells

rolling in from the Gate, pushing white caps

over us.

We were having trouble driving against the

storm. We reefed the main and put up a storm

jib and still the storm blew us progressively

toward the city of Berkeley, the wrong direction.

I forgot to mention---- when we pulled anchor

we discovered that our engine was dead, so this

was all under sail.

Sure, I`m bragging, who would`nt ? We figured

staying alive that afternoon was a full time job.

The waves were piling up and the gale winds

were blowing our little boat off the top of the

waves. Then, on the crest of a wave, a gale

pulsed . As we dropped into the trough we

nearly crashed into this Scarab. A scarab, near

Berkeley, engines dead, wallowing, big waves

breaking over her.

The Scarab`s captain yelled for help as we fought

to keep from crashing into her.

We circled back into the wind in an effort to

avoid contact which would have smashed us to

pieces. Sean tried to throw them a line, but it


About five or six people on the decks of the

scarab, all waving and yelling. Engines dead, they

were certain to go down, probably in minutes.

Two more circles, dangerous jibes, wet to the

skin, they finally caught our line. Sean tweaked

the line until they had it cleated down , we drew

out the slack and had them in tow.

All the time we were yelling over the wind, just

to be heard, now the little Catalina got her

teeth into the wind and the Scarab started to

move behind us.

Sean and I tied down the tiller, working like a

couple of beavers, we managed to get up a

larger jib , pulled the reefs out of the main and

fought the storm for nearly four hours.

Near the mouth of the Alameda estuary we saw

the entrance to the Pacific Marina on our right

and headed for the entrance to the marina.

Sailing a huge circle inside the marina, as the

scarab closed on a wharf one of them threw off

the line and we headed for home.

In this great a blow we were still faced with the

job of landing in our Alameda Marina, but we

discussed it in detail , then Sailing within feet

of Government Island, home of the Coast Guard

base we turned into the wind, winched down the

jib, flattened the main.

As we closed on the Alameda Marina entrance

we were flying. Dropped the sails and she slipped

quietly through crowded boats of the marina to

slowly glide into our berth .

We had never seen an ocean going scarab before.

We fully expected the owner/ operator to get in

touch with us. I would have walked miles to thank

someone who had just saved my life.

Guess a stink-pot (power-boat) operator was just

too embarrassed at being towed to port by a

poor little sail boat. I can see his point.

---- Eagle Cruagh

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

PATRICK CROWLEY (My Grandfather)

Patrick Crowley, Jr. (b. Mar 17, 1825, d. Jan 11, 1914)

Patrick Crowley, Jr. (son of Patrick Crowley, Sr. and Mary Crowley) was born Mar 17, 1825 in Lismore, County Waterford, Ireland, and died Jan 11, 1914 in Town of Seneca, Crawford County, WI. He married Hanorah Brennen, daughter of James Brennen and Mary Brennen.

Notes for Patrick Crowley, Jr.:

Patrick lived in New York state for a brief time before coming to Wisconsin in the early 1850's and to Crawford County by oxcart. Patent records suggest that he purchased 203 acres of farmland in Crawford County on May 15, 1857.

Patrick had a first wife who is believed to be named Hanorah as well (although there is also contradictory evidence suggesting she may have been Elizabeth Murphy). She was born in 1830 and died December 9, 1865 at the age of 35. They had 2 children, Michael and Nora both of whom were still alive when their father passed away in 1914. The south side of the gravestone in St. Patrick's Cemetery in Seneca, WI lists six children of P & H Crowley (believed to be Patrick and first wife Hanorah) who died young. They are Elizabeth, 5 months and 10 days; John, 7 months; Willie, 14 years, 5 months; Mary 2 months, William 12 months, and Dennis 11 months. 1910

Census says he is living with his brother in law James Murphy, Age 75, also born in Ireland who came to the US in 1858 so in 1910 Patrick's sister (first name unknown) must have been deceased.

Wisconsin Land Records

CROWLEY PATRICK 36 9 N 5 W 203.54 10 25114 1857/05/15

CROWLEY PATRICK 1 8 N 5 W 0 10 25114 1857/05/15




Acres: 203.54

Metes/Bounds: No

Title Transfer

Issue Date: 5/15/1857

Land Office: Mineral Point

Cancelled: No

U.S. Reservations: No

Mineral Reservations: No

Authority: April 24, 1820: Sale-Cash Entry (3 Stat. 566)

Document Numbers

Document Nr.: 25114

Accession/Serial Nr.: WI2280__.428

BLM Serial Nr.: WI NO S/N

More About Patrick Crowley, Jr.:

Burial: Jan 13, 1914, Lot 1, Block XVI, Grave 3, St. Patrick's Catholic Church Cemetery, Seneca, WI.

Immigration: 1852, Embarcation Point - Castle Garden, New York.

Occupation 1: 1910, Farmer.

Occupation 2: Bet. 1861 - 1965, Civil War Veteran.

Residence: 1910, Seneca, Crawford County, Wisconsin.

Children of Patrick Crowley, Jr. and Hanorah Brennen are:

+Edward William Crowley, b. Aug 07, 1871, Eastman, WI, d. Mar 28, 1937, Steuben, WI.

Hannah Crowley, b. 1882, d. date unknown.

William Crowley, b. Apr 14, 1888, Steuben, WI, d. date unknown.

Peter Crowley, d. date unknown.

James J. Crowley, b. 1871, d. date unknown.

John J. Crowley, d. date unknown.

Thomas Crowley, d. date unknown.
born--3-29-1877, d. 2-14-1952 in Alameda,CA.
Patrick Crowley, b. 1876, d. date unknown.

Mary Ellen Crowley, d. Feb 01, 1879, Garvey Settlement, Crawford County, WI.

Elizabeth Crowley, d. date unknown.

Willie Crowley, d. date unknown.

Dennis Crowley, d. date unknown.

Monday, January 28, 2013


Thunder Butte on Christmas Day


Photo: The Crowley Castle Restoration Project comes to America -- my childhood fort, built to fend off marauding pets and sisters.Michael Francis CROWLEY
came in the house one day and announced that
he was going to build a space ship.  My reaction
was the usual--- "just talk", so I said, "sure go
ahead and build a space ship, but be sure you
buy all the stuff you will need to build it and let
me know when you are finished.

About a week later I walked in to the back yard
and was shocked to find the above 'space ship',
aka 'castle'  neatly finished off to the side, away
from the rabbit hutches, peach trees and tree
house that was already there.

Mike, I don`t think I ever told you what a fantastic
job you did---- so I`m telling you now.  Mike, you
built a fantastic space ship---- I am very proud of you.

------ Dad    (John Crowley )

Thursday, January 24, 2013

CROWLEY CLAN-----Michael`s castle

Michael Crowley

The Crowley Castle Restoration Project comes to America -- my childhood fort, built to fend off marauding pets and sisters.

.Unlike · · Share · 18 hours ago near Arlington, VA · You, Clyde Doan, Pamela Escott and 5 others like this..Eileen Crowley Heeeyy always let us in! Maybe not cheep cheep tho lol xo

16 hours ago · Like · 2..Tricia Crowley I remember being inside when someone felled the castle. Or was that a bad dream???

9 hours ago · Like..Antoinette Martinez-Crowley Too funny!!!

8 hours ago · Like..Write a comment....Options.Michael Crowley

Crowley Castle -- no Downton Abbey this, but an old stone tower and stockade to fend off marauding pillagers and rivals:

Castle Restoration Gallery

A gallery of photos of the O'Crowley castle at Ahakeera.Unlike · · Share · 19 hours ago near Arlington, VA · You and 3 others like this..Kathleen Crowley I think we should all pitch in if/when we can!

15 hours ago via mobile · Like..Write a comment....

CROWLEY CLAN-----Newsletter addresses

Administrative Directory

Crowley Clan Officers


Jerry Crowley

Crossmahon, Bandon,

County Cork, Ireland


Michael-Patrick Crowley

3 rue de la Harpe

Saint Leger, 78610, France




Mary O'Flynn

Bandon, County Cork



James Crowley


Bandon, County Cork




Oifigeach cadraimh poibli:

Liam Crowley


Bandon, County Cork



Crowley Clan Online Store



Sharon Crowley



Crowley Clan Newsletter

Published three times a year in Spring, Summer & Autumn


Marian Crowley Chamberlain

3071 Marsh Gate Drive

Seabrook Island, SC, 29455




Anne Crowley Ronco




Jim Ritzert




No contact information has been provided.


DNA Project


Catherine Crowley Budd

58110 Ferrier Street

Marathon, FL 33050-5711



Country Representatives:


James Crowley


Bandon, County Cork




Terry Crowley

86 Anglese St.

Goderich, Ontario, N7A 1V3


New Zealand & Australia:

Pauline Crowley-Zieltjes

614 Kelly Road

New Plymouth, New Zealand


United States:

John A. Crowley

2506 Elton Street

Albany, GA 31707



Standing Committees on Ancestry

Jeffrey Crowley Committee:

Sheryl Stanfill

33600 Calimesa Blvd. Sp. #25

Yucaipa, California 92399


Peter Robinson Crowleys Committee

Maureen Crowley

2281 Wallace Point Road

Bailieboro, Ontario, K0L 1B0


Newsletter Masthead image