Hanora Moynihan - Poem by Francis Duggan
I often saw her walking on the bohreen
By her weekly shopping heavily weighted down
Towards her home the cottage by the Claraghatlea rill
Close to if not two miles from Millstreet Town.
She seldom ever stopped to chat to neighbours
She merely said hello as she walked by
She did not have much time for idle gossip
And anyway she seemed a little shy.
But I remember talking to Hanora
Perhaps I was one of the privileged few
I felt astounded by her depth of knowledge
And she was one who had a high I.Q.
She never married never mothered children
And for many years she had lived on her own
She had a cat, a dog, hens and a donkey
And outside of the Townland she was hardly known.
When I was in Primary school she was in mid life
A slightly built woman her brown hair turning gray
But she remained active into her old age
And she never surrendered to decay.
I still have mental pictures of Hanora
With two full bags of groceries weighted down
And despite all this still walking at a brisk pace
Along the old bohreen from Millstreet Town.
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