Canbo Castle

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'Canbo' meaning ceann or head and bua orwin is just south of Ballinvilla and is the only place of this name in Ireland.

Long ago, Lisdaly, Canbo, and Ballinvilla loughs were much larger bodies of water, protecting “Cenn Bughbha” aka “Cenbuigh” from all sides. An access route to Canbo hill by way of Ballinvilla’s southern ridge would have become apparent as waters receded. The Annals of Boyle tell us Canbo was the ancient seat of the O’Farrells. Canbo was a McDermot stronghold for centuries. The Normans left the McDermotts to their own devices and Canbo was not affected (until the 1540 Tudor Conquest, when it then passed into English hands).

Canbo Castle (aka “Kenvoe”) was reputedly built around 1600 by an Elizabethan adventurer named Crofton (who loaned money to the English crown on the promise of lands following the war). In 1618 the “castle and lands of Canbo” were granted by King James to William O’Mulloy, knight of the shire for Co. Roscommon.

Josias Lambert (son of John Lambert and Margaret Carr) who lived at Canbo Castle, probably came into the property by way of his marriage in 1604 to Anne Crofton (daughter of John Crofton and Jane Duke). Anne and Josias had one son, John Lambert (1610-1683). Josias Lambert died in or about 1626. This Tudor castle is clearly marked on Petty’s Map of 1670 (as are the sizeable lakes, still surrounding the stronghold). This castle had an interesting twin stringcourse of brick in its walls, which was unusual for a castle of its period. Sadly, the castle fell into ruins in the 19th century, and many of its stones were extracted by locals to build farmhouses in the area. All that remains, today, is the crumbling gable end of what was, once, a large rectangular structure.

Written at Cambo Castle by poet Patrick J Neary and addressrd to To C J Mulvey, President Croghan Division A.O.H

Leitrim Observer Saturday, January 17, 1914

And in its ruins lonely lie

Yon Castle’s fame and glory,

No tow'ring spires point to the sky,

Its looks are dark and hoary.

Its ancient fame is now unknown

And gone its ancient splendour,

Where welcome was to stranger shown And love benign and tender.

Bright gardens once are weed strew

now .

Their beauty long is faded—