Billy Murphy - Poem by Francis Duggan
He will never more be seen again in Tullig or Currahaly
Or in Claramore or on the Clara road that leads to Ballydaly
But memories of him will not fade like brown leaves of December
For Billy Murphy is one that till death we will remember
He was a happy sort of bloke not one to feel downhearted
And sad to think that by Cashman's hill he now lays with the departed
He battled on right till his end though he must have felt sickly
Lets hope at least he died in peace that the Reaper took him quickly.
In Claramore and Claraghatlea I often worked with Billy
We picked potatoes years ago in weather dry though chilly
Despite a physical handicap he had he worked on without tiring
I admired him for his energy I found the man inspiring.
He did not have an easy life though he was as tough as leather
At night he walked the fields to Duggan's house in every sort of weather
And in the dark and rain he walked back home through the old fields wet and hilly
A gale blowing down from Clara hill but it did not bother Billy.
A character in his own right and him we will remember
And memories of him will not fade like brown leaves of December
The one who claimed Billy will claim us all if not sooner then later
Than any mortal human being the Reaper is far greater.
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