Do you feel there is no mercy,
With none to comfort you ?
Come there is a hope for the weary,
Jesus will shepherd you.

No life was offered like Jesus,
Nobody careth like him,
Shedding His life - blood for sinners,
Nobody careth like him.

Are  you  now  straitened and trembling,
None to assuage your fear?
He knows the tears you are shedding,
Jesus doth answer  prayer.

When the night hangs upon your soul,
With guilt of carnal mind,
Look to the Lord Who can make whole ,
Jesus the Saviour kind.

When you are smitten with sickness,
Ailing  with racking pain,
Healing doth show forth His goodness,
Jesus doth ever reign.

Future unknown makes all dismal,
And life an empty dream,
He is the way, life eternal,
Jesus -all Heaven's theme.

My name is Terry Fitzpatrick
I see familiar faces all around
Perhaps some long lost relatives
Still in County Cork who could be found

My grandfather, James William Fitzpatrick
Made his way to South Boston, Mass,
Just like thousands of Irish refugees
Was looked down upon as low class

“We don’t hire the Irish”
Signs posted on many a door
So he played piano and wrote songs
To feed his family of four

Side by Side and Beer Barrel Polka
Were 2 of his most famous songs
He sold the rights for so little
Few dollars, no credit, so wrong...

He had left County Cork in a hurry
Like thousands forced to leave town
His family, I’m told, were horse thieves
But The Famine’s what took them down

The Troubles continued in Boston
Fifty years before the Kennedys were crowned
My Grandfather kept drinking and singing
Grandmother died young without a sound

One of their 4 sons was my father
Clifford Joseph then had 4 sons and me
I’m proud of my Irish heritage
First one back to visit since 1893

that two out of three poets
write on the internet
while getting inebriated
and three of every four
people who heart a poem do
not read it
and having a dream
of making a living writing poetry
the odds are worse than
winning the lottery.

Death never forgets.
Your sins will find you out
and come home to roost
So, "Be not deceived; God is not mocked:
for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap

Paths less taken
Faces with no souls
Voices unheard
How many hearts have been broken?

Torn and tattered
Hair dishevelled
Hatred and lust, they bind
With their souls left behind