It's cold in Duhallow this morning and the fields that were green yesterday
Lay chilled to the frost that the night brought a cover of silvery gray
And the little dunnock on bare hedgerow too cold and too hungry to sing
On nude branch he perch sad and silent the hardship that January can bring.
The robins and sparrows by back door like beggars they wait to be fed
In hope that when breakfast is eaten the housewife might throw out some bread
With no thought for song or for nesting their battle is to stay alive
How many will live to see April the Winter so hard to survive?
The first heavy snows of the Winter have fallen on the higher ground
On Clara, Shrone and Caherbarnagh the hills are so white all around
The blackbird and thrush on the bare branch their feathers fluffed against the chill
And hare has come down to the lowland there's nothing to eat on the hill.
But I can remember the bright days when sun shone on the leafy tree
And robins and thrushes and finches piped in the woods of Knocknagree
And to her nest on barn rafters the sparrow brought feathers and hay
And out on the dandelion meadow the pipit sang all through the day.
Young calves and young lambs in green pastures were full of the frolics of Spring
And joy too had come to the river the song of the dipper did ring
And moorhen was out with her babies and she chirped loud if human was near
Her first lesson to them survival to teach them the meaning of fear.
It's cold in Duhallow this morning the thrush silent on the bare tree
And gray on the fields and the hedgerows and gray over all Knocknagree
But I can remember the bright days when nesting birds piped all the day
And hedgerows and woodlands and meadows smelt sweet with the blossoms of May.
The sky is dark the countryside is quiet
But the spur winged plovers cry out in the night
Above their territory they call and fly
Perhaps the hunting fox is prowling by.
The possums hiss on gum tree in the park
And in a yard nearby a terrier bark
At wailing tom cats fighting on the street
For the right to mate with a female in heat.
The night is calm there's scarce a puff of breeze
And boobook owl hunting for small birds in the cypress trees
Repeat the same call over and again
And frogs are croaking in the pond and drain.
The countryside may seem quiet after dark
But in the sky above the nearby park
The spur winged plovers cry out in the night
Perhaps a fox has driven them to flight.
Like a beautiful pink camellia that's how you appear to me
That bloom in chilly August on it's dark green mother tree
So bright and fresh and pretty in the wintery wind and rain
That's how you've always looked to me and that's how you will remain.
The beautiful camellia flower that blooms fresh and young today
In two or three weeks if that long will have gone into decay
For flowers have such a brief span they quickly fade away
But in sixty years of living your beauty with you stay.
I feel privileged and grateful for to have you as a friend
And I will love you and respect you until my life will end
You are warm and kind hearted and well loved and well known
And it's due to you and to you only that into a better person I have grown.
You are wise and quite intelligent and beautiful to behold
And you don't have a gray hair on your head and you never will grow old
And on your sixtieth birthday you still look beautiful to me
Like the young and pretty pink flower on the green camellia tree.
Those happy Morris dancers make for a happy sight
They wear bright scarlet ribbons and their shirts and trousers white,
They clash their sticks whilst dancing and you hear the timbers ring
Though 'twould seem that Morris dancing is not a female thing.
I've never seen a female Morris dancer I stand corrected if I'm wrong
It has it's roots in England and to England it belong
And I hope that Morris dancing will not go the way of rhyme
That in a changing World it won't lose out to time.
They brought their culture with them from England far away
A culture perhaps fading like many of the old cultures are today
With the old dances of Europe I see a link somewhere
And sad to hear that Morris dancers are now becoming rare.
At the Dandenong Ranges festival east of Melbourne they perform every year
And after in the booze tent they laugh as they drink their beer,
They brought a thing of beauty when they brought their dancing here
And to those marvellous Morris dancers let us raise our glass of cheer.
Morris dancing vary from English Village to Village or so I have been told
Though the times they are a changing and fading are the ways of old
But those marvellous Morris dancers may they dance forever more
In the sunshine of Australia far from England's rainy shore.
His Grandparents were Romany people from his maternal side
In Countries of Eastern Europe they travelled far and wide
But the most basic human right their right to life of them even denied
In Belzec Concentration camp where a million people died.
I never knew my maternal Grandparents with sadness he recall
Due to circumstance of birth and their way of life misfortune them did befall
My gift of music such a marvellous gift to them I feel I owe
In Belzec Concentration Camp they were murdered decades ago.
A tall and handsome man in his early thirties with wavy raven hair
With the marvellous gift of music a great accordion player
In silence we sat and drank our beer as we listened to him play
The beautiful old gipsy tunes from Countries far away.
That all things do come to an end in some cases a lie
In Belzec Concentration camp the gipsy music did not die
But that the gift of music does live on should not come as a surprise
Something that those who commit crimes against humanity seem to fail to realize.
He played at the pub on passing through him I never more may see
But the beauty of his music will live in my memory
His maternal Grandparents who died at Belzec their lives were not in vain
Their music in their Grandchild has come to life again.
Perhaps she is one who is not free of guile
But she is one who has such a beautiful smile
And a beautiful smile carries one a long way
It does more for one than words can ever say,
No doubt she's not perfect we all have our flaws
The feline who often purrs is known to use her claws
But a smile from a stranger just in passing by
Can bring to your day a small flutter of joy,
On my cares and worries I did silently brood
As I walked down the street in an out of sorts mood
But a beautiful smile and a warm hello
From a lovely young woman one I did not know
Helped for to bring a little joy to my day
For the best things in life we do not need to pay.
She sees things of beauty in all that she see
And what's beautiful to her seems ugly to me
What to her is a flower to me is a weed
We do seem so different so different indeed.
The window of her soul is open to light
She always seems happy and bubbly and bright
And her type of person a pleasure to know
For beauty goes with her where-ever she go.
Of those who are different good things she does say
And for to help out others she goes out of her way
She helps out the homeless and those in dire poverty
I do not know of anyone as great as she.
And sad to think her type are becoming more rare
For the poor and downtrodden she genuinely does care
To the most worthy causes her work free time she devote
Yet she is not seen as one worthy of note.
A beautiful person with a heart of gold
And surely her story deserves to be told
Not proud of her beauty and free of conceit
And people like her one does not often meet.
In the blue sky just a few specks of gray
In the evening of a beautiful day
Though last night it rained and more rain on the way
And that more rain is needed 'twould be fair to say
On a gum tree in the park the white backed magpie sing
He sings all year round from the Summer to Spring
But in late Winter and Spring he even sings at night
So nice to hear him piping in the moonlight
Spring it is with us and Summer is near
And beautiful weather for the time of year
Such beauty the poets and the artists inspire
Of talking of Nature could one ever tire
Her green of September Mother Nature wear
And the perfumes of blossoms in the evening air.
It's Friday evening from life's cares we'll have a brief leave taking
And lets go to the Basy Pub for hour of merry making
In confines of the Settlers Bar the voice of mirth is ringing
And Pete Atkinson from Dublin Town an Irish song is singing.
The Mckelvey men father and son are talking of horse racing
They know the horses inside out from form and race card tracing
Has Vo rogue gone over the hill, can Horlicks race to glory
Can Almaarad come bouncing back and go down in history?
Phil Cronin go back down the years he flick back through life pages
To friends he knew in Millstreet Town he has not seen for ages
Big Jerry Shea and Mister O, James Manley hale and hearty
And Johnny Sing from Millview Lane the life of every party.
Brave Harry the brave English man the one as tough as leather
You'll only see that man in shorts no matter what the weather
A man of elephantine strength yet gentle and kind hearted
And he has taken life's hardest blow since his son this world departed.
Big Mick Kissane the Kerry man he doesn't like Maggie Thatcher
And he feels that for Union bashing that few in history could match her
Still he won't go back to Kenmare to weather wet and hazy
He'd much prefer Mt Evelyn it's nearer to the Baysy.
Mick Kelleher and Phil Schofield well into greyhound breeding
They talk of how greyhounds should be schooled and for them proper feeding
Two greyhound trainers and of late their reputations growing
And Millstreet Town keep racing on when others dogs are slowing.
Vin Schofield a Manchester Man he does love Man United
And every time United win he feel proud and delighted
But United not doing well of late of late they're not impressing
And this too much for him to take he find it all depressing.
Galway's Matt Duggan and Westmeath's Sean Fay the hurling game debating
On the first sunday of September who will be celebrating
Can Westmeath make the big break through or will Galway flags be waving
Or will Tipperary still be champs their reputation saving?
And Marty Kerins from Mayo a good and happy fellow
I've never met him in bad mood I've always found him mellow
He love the Bayswater Hotel he say there is none better
And to be kept from Settlers Bar he'd have to be in fetter.
And Mick O Shea from Dublin his friends are in the many
And he doesn't have one enemy and he doesn't deserve any
He's given homes to Homeless souls and he's easily moved to pity
And good a man as ever came to live in this great City.
The amazing J D Ellis his name and fame keep spreading
And he has bounced back from the floor and for the top he's heading
Still he is easily stirred up and Garry Carter does the stirring
And el tigre he begins to growl the cat's no longer purring.
It's friday evening from life's cares we'll have a brief leave taking
And where better than the Basy Pub for hour of merry making
In Confines of the Settlers Bar the voice of mirth is ringing
And Pete Atkinson from Dublin Town an Irish song is singing.
Perhaps the greatest tennis player the World has ever seen
She had won nine Grand Slam tournaments before she was nineteen
Till her marvellous tennis career was prematurely ended in such a tragic way
Thrown from her horse her foot was crushed that's life as some might say.
The marvellous Maureen Connolly the greatest tennis player of her time
Her great career had ended long before she had reached her prime
Nine grand slams as a teenager her record may never be beat
She won every grand slam tournament in which she did compete.
The greats of present day tennis we hear so much about
Though 'tis not on their greatness we ever cast a doubt
But of nine Grand Slams as a teenager none of them can boast
To the late Maureen Connolly we ought to drink a toast.
Great tennis players like the Seasons they come and then they go
But there was only one Maureen Connolly the legendary 'Little Mo'
Nine Grand Slams as a teenager believe it if you may
The champion amongst champions her record stands today.
Have you ever been so lonely that you felt quite close to
And your thoughts went racing backwards to the happy by gone
To the days when you were twenty, fit and sprightly and
And no challenge seemed too daunting you'd try climb the
highest tree? .
Have you ever felt nostalgic and your thoughts went far away
To the school yard in the lunch hour where you used to romp
With your school friends from the old days have you wondered
where are they
Have they too grown slow and settled do they show their
years in grey? .
Have you ever been in a bar room on a night out with the
Felt the lilt of drunk man's laughter an intrusive sort of
And a sudden rush of sadness bring the teardrops to your
And you go off to the toilet where your feelings you disguise.
And back home you think about it in the peace and in the
Whilst the others were so happy I felt down a bit tonight
And you feel you'd one too many and you blame it on the beer
But you've often drunk more liquor and tonight your thoughts
Have you ever at house party asked yourself what brought me
And you feel obliged to linger though you'd like to
And the people seem so friendly but you still feel out of
And you get the strangest feeling your's is not a welcome
Have you ever on the train home after working hard all day
Felt your effort has been wasted and at home you ought to
Whilst the boss drives new mercedes you must struggle all
And about that man you work for you don't have good word to
Have you ever felt your best friend really not your friend
Why he often pass your house by and he seldom ever call
Except when he is after something and for him there is some
And though he claim you are his best friend in your heart
the doubt remain? .
Have you ever been in the company of a humorous sort of
And there were peals of laughter when he cracked a funny
But the punch line seemed to slip you it went way above your
And you were left to wonder why they laughed at what he'd
Have you ever watched a young man kiss his girlfriend on the
And you thought him a bit cheeky felt he ought be more
But you silently were wishing he were you and you were he
And your feelings on the matter only sprung from jealousy? .
Did you ever meet young lady and she smiled and looked your
And your ego felt inflated she had helped to make your day
Till you realized much later for you she could never fall
She was just a friendly stranger and no feelings there at
All these sort of situations you will meet along life's way
And this game of life and living is no easy game to play
In a simple situation a great challenge we can see
And this thing called human feelings is too big a thing for
A fly stuck in a spider's web gives a buzzing distress call
Too entangled for to fly free and too powerless for to crawl
Unto a safer surface for it no get away
The sleeky black house spider rushes forth and grabs it's prey.
It can't escape the spider's fangs no matter how it try
Perhaps it is a natural death for the common blow fly
Many of it's kind have a more painful end they linger for a day
After inhaling the poison fumes when hit by the fly spray.
For the hungry spider a nice meal it's appetite to satisfy
It may have to wait another day or two for to catch another fly
Of the flies that fly into it's web perhaps two out of three
Seem to cheat death in the nick of time by somehow struggling free.
The fly cannot escape the spider's grasp today the hunter eat
And to it's taste buds a sleek blow fly makes for a tasty treat
The laws of Nature apply to all of life even to you and I
And for the spider for to live the blow fly had to die.