There's an old house up on Jennings Street
In a yard so overgrown, you can't see your feet
A vine grows up the side and a shed near the back
With a door that doesn't meet the frame and track.
A hole in the roof, houses a family of Bluejays
Who chirp and play as the world passes by
Babies jumping off that same roof, learning to fly
Untaxed by the society seen in people eyes.

Some say it's haunted, others say just condemned
But inside those cryptic walls is a place few have been
Once you've entered, time stands very still
Every creak tells a story and the air is thinner with a chill.
Musk and dust cover where a family thrived,
Before this technology that made us so unalive.

I wouldn't dare to move a single thing
I bring only what my eyes recall.
This place was not my place, not even my time
In a body I only borrow, who am I to call anything mine?
Others blinded by greed, believe they are owed this history
So as I left this house I locked the door, to save the mystery.
There's an old house on Jennings Street
Leave it be, it's perfect.

As you can see now
We've lost two men to Father Time
They were your friends
As they were mine

They both were outlaws
and they lived life their own way
If we had our choice
They'd still be here today
But, I am not the one
Who took them both away
That's all I've got to say

They were our brothers
And they stood here dressed in black
Close your eyes and they are back
They're in the ether
Waiting there for their return
They'll tell us what they saw
And then we will all learn
That life's a circle
And death is no concern
When they do return....

We are all highwaymen
And we all travel different roads
We all bear witness
Carry loads
We will all pass this way
More than once I'm sure
There will be other times
When we meet at death's door
But as for now, I say
No more than evermore
For we will meet again....

Once there were four of us
And the world was our domain
We've gone away
Come back again
We sailed the seven seas
And rode the highway roads
We flew on starships
And we followed our own code
We met the horsemen
And our souls we did unload
And we'll be back again...

Mr McParland;
our Primary 4 teacher lived in Newry,
Northern Ireland.
Not a City in those days,
but a dangerous border town.
He had wiry hair like a blonde Afro.

Pat Jennings;
world class goalkeeper for his country,
was also born in Newry.
Our man claimed to know him,
and went to school with the green giant.
We believed without reproach.

Yours truly;
age 6 & 7, in the years of the Hunger Strikes,
born in Belfast.
I was enthralled because Pat was of another
world to kids reared in our divided times.
A symbol of hope on an island of doubt.