A chill was in the morning air and rain clouds in the sky
As he left his home for a short walk to the small wood nearby
Breakfast in a half an hour dear his young wife to him said
Though her he did not seem to hear strange thoughts were in his head.
I fancy I am walking where I often walked before
On the roadway that leads from Millstreet Town just a short car drive to Rathmore
The tiny brown wren with the big bird song sing in the green hedgerow
And flowers of Spring bloom in the fields where the Finnow waters flow.
Frail old blokes may boast of their conquests and songs of war heroes are sung
But the future is really what matters and the future belong to the young,
Some men they grow old though not wiser and no fool like an old fool they say
Why bore me with stories of your past glories we'll drink to the men of today.
She runs up the street in the morning as dawn's lamp has just brightened the sky
Her son cycles along side of her on his pushbike a nine or a ten years old boy
The hill in our street is a steep hill I hear her pant as she jogs by
And she and her son they ignore me though a few times to them I said hi.
The more others try to control us the less of us they can control
And the more that we grow to dislike them when they try to block light from our soul
Why impose your religious views upon others if they have a God of their own
Or if they are atheists or agnostics and God to them remains unknown.
Alluring Goddess of Poesy I saw you in a dream
You stood there tall and lovely beside a sunlit stream
Your golden hair reached halfway down your back, you wore a snow white dress
And I was spellbound by your beauty you beautiful Goddess.
He cannot go back to his old home a stranger now is living there
Ten years back his brother Jim sold it since he found employment elsewhere
And Merino the Village he grew up in as a place seems forgotten by time
He left it back in the mid eighties when he was approaching his prime.
He is a cruel hearted old bugger and bad things about him been said
But the saddest thing of all about it is that he may die as an old man in his bed
With his children and grandchildren gathered around him as for his soul they kneel in prayer
Such a thought does not seem very pleasant yet life can seem very unfair.
The hypocrisy of some people that upset me when I was younger in a Land from here far away
Much to my disgust all around me the small town talk lives on today
Of our so called self appointed judges by them reputations destroyed
And ignorance is bliss to some people and ignorance breeds conceit and pride.
Do not hate your neighbour's cat Mandy for he feels he has not done wrong
By killing the golden billed blackbird and robbing your garden of his song
He does not have a guilty conscience a bird to him is only prey
Our own kind are far greater killers though you do not see it that way.