Irish Nights (Ghosts) 3/21/17

Irish Nights © Tony Fallon 3/21/17

Growing up in Ireland I often heard stories of Ghosts

Whether I was at home or rambling with hosts

Many would be gathered around the fire in candlelight

Prepared to tell us harrowing stories to give us all a fright.

They’d tell of ghosts in gardens and some who went on roofs

And some who tempted damsels and had devil’s cloven hoofs

One night past Miley’s Dancehall there appeared Gaspar

Seen by at least five neighbors going home from Beadses Bar

Mrs. Malick told such scary stories she would make us quake

About the ghosts in the boreen in front of Ballyglass lake.

And of course, there was the story of the blood-sucking bats

And you thought of the banshee when you heard two fighting cats

The dolmen down the road was supposed to have a fairy clan

And on All Souls night a crying girl and an eight-foot seven-man

On Sheegith hill there was supposed to be a long-dead priest

Protecting the holy mass rock from Satan’s ugly beast

If you had gone to Rahara you’d be cycling hard

Until you got by Bluchers and that spooky graveyard

When you were going past certain places you never slowed

I know at night I cycled faster when I was on Ballagh road

Passing John Joe Fallon’s I’d be in an agitated state

My heart would be beating wildly ‘til past PJ Martin’s gate

There were stories of snarling dogs there with flashing eyes

And other wild animals three times normal size

And about horses pulling carriages who shied away in fear

On nights when those monster animals should suddenly appear

But the frightful time continued for there could be concealed

The souls of those who perished in the famine in Ger Egan’s field

There was supposed to be a headless widow past Tom Beattie’s shop

Those who cycled on that road by the old forge did not ever stop

The ghost in Barnacullen I’m sure is talked about even until today

I mean the one that was circling around Jim Menton’s cock of hay

There were other wild dogs in other places mostly black and white

Who walked the roads and lanes of Ireland just around midnight

Not everyone who rode a bike in Ireland had a handlebar light

And if you met someone like that you’d get an awful fright

I didn’t mind the cycling in the winter if we had a full moon

And of course, I didn’t mind it if it was May or June

They told us all these wild stories as a form of recreation

And I made them twice as big with my vivid imagination

Of course, I don’t believe in ghosts but they are still there

And listening to those stories often gave me a nightmare

Of all those Ghosts and animals none ever did attack

Yet I’m still scared of those places whenever I go back