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Jul 2017
THE ESSENTIAL INGREDIENT




"Oh love is teasing

and love is pleasing. . ."




my sister sings to the cake

she is about to bake.




"And love is a pleasure

when first it's new. . ."




The rich Christmas mix

listens with all of its ingredients.




"Ahhhh but as love gets older

sure love gets colder. . ."




the brandy & fruit

weep into the bowl




"...and fades away like

the morning dew."




There is a lot of brandy in the mix.

There is a lot of brandy in sis.




Sad Irish folk songs

appear to be




the essential ingredient.




A pink and green balloon

clings to the ceiling




refusing to come down

by poker or by broom.




Takes refuge in the corner

just above the Christmas star.




My heart is breaking

with baking.




"I know my love

by his way of talking..."




flour in her hair

making her so ghostly




as if the original protagonist

came back from the grave




and sang her heart out




". ..and I know my love

by his eyes so blue..."




until the creambuttersugar

is all fluffy.




He voice adding a zing

of lemon peel.




At this stage

the eegs are beaten




". . .and if my love leaves me

what will I do?"




Slowly slowly whipped

to form peaks.




Now the cake is tipsy.

So - is sis.




I am drunk

on her singing.




My mind is in mourning

for all the love loved




and lost.




She daubs my nose and laughs.

I lick it off.




The tip of my tongue

a windscreen wiper!




And so the brandy fruit mixture

is folded in.




I can still taste

her singing.




Her cake the only cake

I could ever ate and oh




her almond icing!




These songs forever

her.




And still she sings

down all the years




and I love her versions

the best!




"...and a troubled mind sure

can know no rest




and still she cries bonny boys are few




and if my love leaves me

what will I do!"
***




Ahhh it's such an elemental memory for me...I can at a second's notice step back into it in an instant. I'd bawl my eyes out....the words....the melody....everything was real to me.




Couldn't possibly forget these songs and the singer...they stained my soul. She used to sing them very quietly and so soft and tender....even today they haven't been surpassed...they used to **** me. And when she got to the bit where "...he takes a strange ******* his knee and he tells her things that he once told me..." it was all much too much! I thought they were exquisite!




Her voice and that moment tied to her apron strings lives forever in my mind. It is a little jewel of time that has never diminished ever. I was too young to understand the brandy factor and could never understand how other people's cake and almond icing just couldn't get next or near to my sister's!
Donall Dempsey
Written by
Donall Dempsey  Guildford
(Guildford)   
175
 
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