GrowingupinRahara©2022TonyFallon1120

 GrowingupinRahara©2022TonyFallon1120

We walked the same fields each week to Sunday mass

As we did the other five days to national class

There also was a half mile of sandy holey road

beside where the little Carrowkeel river flowed

We had no large size mountains or high terrain

And we have so few hills it's almost like a plain

Even what we call high places are mostly flat

That's why in British days there wasn't much combat

You'd need to travel to Athlone to hear of clashes

Unless you count Knockcroghery being burned to ashes

Other places bragged about how they were long ago shelled

Or how in Limerick City the redcoats were repelled

Cannon Balls were fired by a tyrant named Cromwell

At our church in the graveyard near St Bridgids well

But only one wall of that old church ever fell

If there is any justice at all he still burns in hell

We had a radio and Paddy Beades sang on vinyl

And the juniors never got to the county final

It is many a concert I fondly now recall

On Rahara road near granny's in Ned Miley's hall

In Ballagh we had handball and pitch and toss

And lost good balls in the furze and moss

While the footballers tried to hone their catching

And show their ability to score when attacking

It's funny I only remember the sun and not the shower

And a car might only go bye once in an hour

Sundays we'd all pile into Eamon Beatties Lorry

And head off for miles in search of football glory

we often caught pike in Funshinagh and Ballyglass

Funny the blacksmith had no horse only an ass

None of us were rich so I guess we were deprived

Yet all those years later a good few of us survive