Prionsías Ó Canáin
Two Final Journeys - Poem by Prionsías Ó Canáin
Sure, not a bother, McGraths is it you said ….
You’ll be after being at Mary Ellens funeral then.
A great crowd and the priest spoke well
Fine day for the living is angels by the grave for the dead.
No one left at the old place now the old girl’s gone.
You put me in mind of her only kid,
Fell out, or so I heard, a long time back,
A great pity that, but sure, isn’t it true,
Life marches on.
But you’re not here to be listening to an auld man blatherin,
Directions you were wanting, McGraths you said.
Now if I were you young lady, and ‘tis easy see I’m not
It’s not this road I’d be after takin.
But sure you’re here, that’s a tired sun,
And its west your facing.
Go on down this road a ways, about a mile,
Perhaps a little more, then at Careys Cross go left.
Be careful mind, do not take the bog boreen,
‘Tis hardly used at all these days. Modern times.
What with new-fangled central heating and the like
It's not turf now ye young ones are wanting to be cuttin’.
Where was I now, oh yes, McGraths.
You’ll not be going very long when soon as spit you’re
At spinney fork, keep right of old Stump Murphys well.
Follow on that road a spell, down past Vinnie Healys pit
And in the littlest while you’ll pass the co-op creamery yard.
Closed now, but sure, more progress I suppose.
Beyond this and where the road turns from road to path
Twists round and back upon itself
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