HomeAgain©2022TonyFallon0303

 HomeAgain©2022TonyFallon0303

Nothing bad has happened so far yet I feel stricken

Amid such raw beauty my heart began to quicken

I was on the small road a mile from my old abode

In my eyes were sad tears I could barely see the road

I was finally home and my heart and soul were filled

Fifty years ago I departed young poor and unskilled

I got caught up in business and I also entertained

When I did not come in summer my mother complained

I will not know many neighbors nor will they know me

Those who didn't go away will know my family tree

To see the daisies dancing in a field of grass so green

Or see bundles of oats being gathered by a colleen

I remember her so fondly when I was young and shy

That lovely dark haired princess the apple of my eye

To see the furze on the hill or golden fields of wheat

They are not mowing it with a scythe it's now obsolete

To walk the country's lanes where blackberry bushes grew

Or watch the new sunrise in a field of morning dew

Around the little cottage windows see the ivy crawl

Or roses in the summer on the white washed gable wall

When I was five I was never allowed to go this far

Nor be outside at night beneath a bright moon or star

In the shadows might be a scary pookey or banshee

And I would have to go to bed no matter how I'd plea

As a lad I ran on this road fell and skinned my knees

Or rode a bicycle too fast in the evening breeze

In the local lake we caught fresh fish for Friday food

Properly cooked inside only the tinkers barbecued

We even had a man made sweat house which cured some ills

That was the old times before a hundred thousand pills

Our old church was hit by one Cromwell cannon Ball

He is long gone down to hell and it still did not fall

There were forts and a dolmen over burial mounds

And certain other evil places that were out of bounds

We often shot rabbits with an old beat up twenty two

And put marks inside on the door to see how much we grew

Walls had to be maintained to keep in wandering goats

And others rebuilt to protect the years hay and oats

Living in the country the day rarely ends at dark

Even after sunset we'd play football in the park

Long summer days sunlight was with us almost until ten

At four next morning the sun was in the sky again

We still have a summer bonfire from the pagan era

First seen by Saint Patrick on the holy Hill of Tara

I passed the holy well from which we drew fresh water

When the ass would hee haw there would be children's laughter

We had to help parents with the hay the turf and spuds

And on Saturday in the bath made a lot of suds

You'd be dressed up for confession like it was a feast

Afraid of your young life that you would anger the priest

In my father's time punishment might be ten lashes

Prior to that it used to be sack cloth and ashes

How many times we started to school so ill prepared?

The nearer you got to the school the more we were scared

At mass every Sunday morning I brought the priest wine

And men who could not afford a belt used baling twine

At noon and six we would hear the distant church bell chime

One neighbor burned rocks in a kiln and wound up with lime

I remember the old men with Woodbine stained fingers

Old women with snuff that's a memory that lingers

With all this Irish scenery at our finger tips

Why do so many of us Irish leave on planes or ships

Maybe to find out better places to search and probe

And then realize this is the best place on the globe

It's amazing how much you forget when far away

Now it seems like it all happened only yesterday