Trad Session Etiquette: When to Start The Rattlin' Bog

Right, this is an important one. I've seen it go wrong too many times, and I need to set the record straight. There are RULES about when you start The Rattlin' Bog at a trad session. Unwritten rules, mostly, but rules nonetheless. And if you break them, you'll know about it from the looks you get.

I play tin whistle and bodhrán at the Tuesday session at Cruise's pub in Ennis, and I've been doing it for years. I've seen every possible version of this going right and going wrong. So here's your guide.

Rule 1: The Rattlin' Bog is a CLOSER

This is the most important rule. The Rattlin' Bog is an end-of-the-night song. It is a finisher. A grand finale. The fireworks at the end of the show. You do NOT open a session with the bog. You do not play it in the middle of a session. You play it when the night is winding down, the pints are nearly finished, and everyone's in that beautiful state where they're tired enough to be silly but awake enough to sing.

Starting the bog at 9pm when the session is just getting going is like setting off fireworks at noon. Technically possible, but you've ruined the effect entirely.

Rule 2: Do NOT Interrupt a Set of Reels

I have witnessed a man — I won't name him, but he knows who he is — try to start The Rattlin' Bog in the middle of a set of reels. In the MIDDLE. The fiddle players were locked into a gorgeous set, the bodhrán was driving, everyone was in the zone, and this lad just starts singing "Ho ro the rattlin' bog" at the top of his lungs.

The silence that followed was the loudest silence I've ever heard.

Don't do this. Wait for a natural break. Wait for the music to pause. Wait for the moment. The moment will come.

Rule 3: Once It Starts, There Is No Going Back

This is less a rule and more a law of physics. Once someone starts The Rattlin' Bog and the room joins in, you are committed. You cannot stop halfway through. You cannot skip verses. You cannot decide at verse six that actually you'd rather do another set of jigs.

The bog has you now. You're going all the way to the flea. Accept it.

Rule 4: Read the Room

Not every session wants the bog. I know, I know — it's hard to imagine. But some nights the mood is more contemplative. Maybe someone's been playing gorgeous slow airs. Maybe it's a smaller, quieter session. Maybe the barman has already asked people to keep it down twice.

On those nights, the bog might not be right. And that's okay. The bog will be there next week.

Rule 5: One Person Starts, Everyone Joins

The way it works at Cruise's is this: one person starts singing the first line of the chorus. Quietly at first, almost testing the waters. If the room is ready, other voices join. By the time you hit "the bog down in the valley-o" the whole pub should be in.

If you start singing and nobody joins... well, that's your answer. Finish the line, laugh it off, and suggest another tune. No shame in it.

Rule 6: Commit to the Speed

The song gets faster. That's the deal. If you're going to be the one to start it, you need to be prepared to set the pace and then let it accelerate naturally. Don't try to keep it slow and controlled. The whole beauty of the thing is the loss of control, the acceleration into beautiful chaos.

The Perfect Moment

You'll know it when you feel it. It's about 11:30pm. The session has been going for hours. The musicians are happy, the crowd is warm, the pints are lined up. There's a natural pause after a good set. Someone catches your eye. You catch theirs. And then—

"Ho ro the rattlin' bog..."

And the whole room lights up. Because everyone knows what's coming. Everyone knows they're about to spend the next five minutes singing faster and faster until the words don't make sense anymore and nobody cares.

That's the moment. Wait for it. Earn it. And when it comes, give it everything you've got.

BogLord2002

P.S. — If you're at Cruise's on a Tuesday, you'll know the moment. I'll be the one with the bodhrán and the massive grin.