DugraBog(c)2021TonyFallon0727.

 DugraBog(c)2021TonyFallon0727.

As an Irish teenager I spent many a June even'

In Dugra bog outside the little village of Kilteevan

Then the bicycle was the transportation to get about

To travel to the bog or town and mass if you were devout

It was pure hard work daily there were no plans to be discussed

If it didn't rain for days cars were followed by a cloud of dust

We came from Rahara parish and did not have our own bank

We rented yearly and had Corbooley people on each flank

Events that happened in Knockcroghery became instant news

An argument about football teams fueled by too much booze

The wheel barrow was ancient it must be made for a dragon

It would be easier to pull the turf on a child's wagon

We turned then we footed and we finally made a big stack

We often ate egg sandwiches and drank milk in Brennan's shack

The weather so unpredictable it might be a mild gale

And it being so chilly you would not be surprised with hail

After a few days of sunshine you'd have blisters on your nose

And when humidity was a bit high they'd say it was close

We would build a fire for cooking and to keep away midges

And said many bad things about them which were not religious

Sometimes when a fire was started we would have warm hard boiled eggs

And empty the tea mug until there was nothing left but dregs

The mid day meal around two was almost a social event

Grown men with hot tea in their bellies went back to work content

You could never use bog water for the taste was distorted

So every morning bottled water had to be imported

Not all empty Cidona bottles were retuned to the store

For the days in the bog my mother kept at least three or four

You would constantly watch the fire and keep it under control

And when you were going home throw the hot embers in the hole

I often left Jim Menton's donkey in Mooney's shed with hay

When I'd return in the morning he would always loudly bray

Us children got excited to see a rabbit or a hare

And I loved to listen to the skylark singing in the air

We would wander though the wild heather and get an awful fright

When a pheasant hen would suddenly rise and take off in flight

To get turf dry and saved and home there was always great pressure

The sods had to be ricked before the coming of the thresher

To fill and empty Eamon Beattie's red lorry was labor

But in our village a kindly neighbor helped us his neighbor

We didn't stop in Knockcroghery but we did in Finneran's
And satisfied our sweet teeth with some biscuits and minerals

If you worked autumn in a bog you would not be overweight

And when you got home tired you did not leave much food on your plate

Twenty years ago in the new bog it was cut by machine

God be with the good old days when the strong men used the old slean

When we were working in the Irish bogs then who could foresee?

That we'd be stopped from cutting turf by European decree

I would love to go back again and drive down the old bog road

But I have no plans to leave my new Catskill Mountain zip code

I do not think I will be going back anytime this year

So I will just write and dream and in my pillow shed a tear

Irish Arts Week© Tony Fallon071318.

 Irish Arts Week© Tony Fallon071318.

Up and down 145 in East Durham of high renown

The best Irish talent in the world was gathered in this town

It was of course the six days of the Annual Irish Arts Week

A gathering in America which is truly unique

On the pipes or banjo you can learn a brand new technique

Or a few focals of Gaelic language you can learn to speak

Some people came up for four days of quiet vacation

Any many are here for some musical education

The parents have instilled some inquiring motivation

And teachers pass on our traditions to the next generation

I was in McGraths last night, the pipes many people were playing

There was a big crowd there all night no one was straying

Mattie Connolly was in his glory his fingers were hopping

Jigs Reels one after the other of him there was no stopping

He was not the only one there whose fingers seemed to glide

Deirdre Corrigan's were so fast I thought they would collide

For months we will talk about legends like Bergin,Madden and Fee

And instructors like Margie and Donny and Annemarie

There will be people who danced so much they will have blisters

We'll talk about the Coen brothers and the Casey sisters

If we had a piper named John or Michael Regan

I could have teamed him up with the singer Patrick Egan

There is such great talent here yet so many were omitted

They didn't rhyme with anyone when they were submitted

The names of most the teachers this year were not very phonetic

So I had a hard time with rhyming names and being poetic

But where else is a better place to make new or meet an old friend

Than the Irish arts week in East Durham I wish it would never end

I don't think i ever posted this before

ALONE(c)2021TonyFallon0615.

 ALONE(c)2021TonyFallon0615

I'm not a young lad anymore but free of infections

I didn't catch the Covid and I have both my injections

I'm up by nine each morning I'm as fit as a fiddle

I do not have fat behind and little in the middle

In the last forty years I have not gained or lost a pound

My heart beat is sixty two my doctor says that is sound

No high Cholesterol to worry and low blood pressure

And the food I eat could not be healthier or fresher

The only thing he's snippy about and we disagree

Is me staying up watching movies until two or three

He is a great believer in at least eight hours slumber

And he wants me to do that nightly winter and summer

My hair is shoulder length I have been growing it for years

I'm the envy of girls but Geraldine wants to use shears

I have a beard like Santa Clause for years I have not shaved

I haven't been to the barber so much money I have saved

I don't drink any alcohol and I'm not a smoker

I do not go to OTB but I like a game of poker

I'm a happy go lucky man I seldom am uptight

But there is no one here to say good morning or good night

OhtoSingAnIrish Song

 OhtoSingAnIrish Song(C)2021TonyFallon0630 

Are The Irish Music high Holy days gone maybe forever?

Perhaps brave men will come once again and start a new endeavor

Do you remember sixty years ago in a more folksy age

When wild looking young men some with beards  would take the local stage

And belt out new Irish songs from local villages and towns

And fill dance halls from Kerry to Armagh with swinging Irish sounds

Big Tom would sing of Castleblaney Brendan Shine of Castlerea

Dermot O'Brien would sing of Louth and the Turfmsn from Ardee

Larry and Declan were singing of their Longford and Drumlish

Others told of the awful suffering and dying in Long Kesh

Almost every week there would be a new song about H Block

Meanwhile Dana was singing the praises of the Lady of Knock

Danny Doyle was singing about gathering up pots and pans

The Wolfe Tones had new songs about the IRA and the Black and Tans

Somewhere else someone would sing of the Kerry hills of Knocknashee

Dermot Henry in New York was singing The Village of Asdee

Remember Lovely Derry the Lee and the Lovely Rose of Clare

And the Johnson group sang lovingly of the Plains of Kildare

Who can forget Lovely Leitrim or the green hills of Sligo

Or the cottage on the borderline of Galway and Mayo

Lough Ree oh Lough Ree where Roscomm Westmeath and Longford counties met

The pretty little girl from Omagh may have been a brunette

A woman was afraid of a kiss in the town of Ballymoe

While up in Cavan they were singing the praises of John Joe

Sharon Shannon moved a bit north and became the Galway Girl

The song became so world famous once she gave it to Steve Earl

One gypsy was a rover another's crush was a girl of eight

And Willie Brady walked the boreen with a Muldoon girl named Kate

The Dubliners going to Galway Races had four hours to drive

It must have been a Rocky road to Dublin one two three four five

Sean McCarthy wrote a rousing song about a red haired Mary

Johnnie McCauley was home in any town in Tipperary

Phil Coulter wrote so sadly of Derry the town he loved so well

And how the hated British army turned his hometown into hell

Paddy Farrell told us he wanted to go back to Castlebar

Someone else sang of Patsy Mulligan the man from Mullingar

Pete St John wrote of the Atherny wife who could only mourn

As her husband was shipped to Australia for stealing some corn

There were songs about love,romance,Clay pipes,carrots donkeys and goats

The old guys who drank too much and the dreaded emigrant boats

It seems no one will record now unless it's Grace or Raglan Road

Or country songs about Texas where the Rio Grande flowed

Will all our little towns and villages become once more obscure?

Will no one again sing Irish songs like Margo or Christy Moore?

Are we no more to hear the likes of McEvoy or Brendan Grace?

Or Furey/Arthur nor Hegarty that would be such a disgrace

Are there no more Paddy Reilly's Luke Kelly's or Ronnie Drews?

Is there anyone out there to fill Foster and Allen's shoes?

No more drilling in the mountains no more Kelly from Killane
No more Kevin Barry or Sean South or Martha from Strabane

No more Tommy Makem from Armagh no Clancy's or Pecker Dunne
No more Billy Reid dying on the street with an old Thompson gun

No Lisdoon or Limerick Lady or Irish in New York

No more will we hear great stories of the boys from county cork

Is the Golden era past is there no more youthful passion?

Are we not proud of new Irish songs and gone Country to cash in?