Colcannon it was then day and night
in our crowded apartment in Canaryville.
Pa out of work again and Ma at the stove
mashing potatoes with cabbage, onions,
and if St Patrick smiled on us, bits of bacon!
Breaking fast before school bells rang,
or sitting at supper in the kitchen
the eight of us dined like Celtic kings
and their queens on colcannon!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nostalgic and warm memory... thanks for sharing