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
