Treasure Island

James Bredin

(1933 / Ennis Canada)

Quılty Long Ago ...


My mind is sometimes caught in memories of very long ago,
When I carried water in a heavy bucket and I moved quite slow,
Along the shore road in Quilty when I saw a small group of men,
Huddled listening to a hurling match on the wireless back then.

That little half-door house may have been the post-office place,
They had electricity and a wireless to suffice just in case,
It was a time of horses and donkeys pulling farmers' carts,
Simple times and places where no one knew anything about the arts.

Sometimes time stands still and I'm still there as I passed looking on,
In the rain and wind in Ireland though no doubt; they're all gone,
But my mother needed the bucket of water so I passed,
Maybe I should have stayed for a while and listened and asked.

Submitted: Thursday, January 10, 2013
Edited: Friday, January 11, 2013
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