Writing.Com General Discussion

This is my favourite poem from my father collection. He spent all week at Drogheda Fleadh Ceoil NA HEirrean and got third place in the story telling competition. He is Peter Carragher.

I remember Micky and myself
When we were very small.
He watched his father and my own
Repair an out house wall.
Both men would join together
When cropping season came
For us the summer holidays
Would be an end less game.

One source of fun was fishing
How Micky would deliver
A dozen trout or maybe more
Alomg the Creggan river.
The home made reels and hazel rods
We cut them in the glen,
And sometimes sat to twelve at night
To see the little men.

He tinkered with the wrenches
From a very early age,
An avid lad for reading
For the turning of a page.
Always one for helping out
So keen to lend a hand.
Impersonate at concerts,
Politicians of our land.

On coming home one evening
From McGuigans in his car
The silencer was missing
So we heard him near and far.
A Woolsley 1560
Came flying down the road
She was handy for the dances
For she carried quite a load.

The Faorways was a dandy spot,
We all enjoyed the fun
With Micky sitting at the wheel
Twas sure a speedy run.
Most girls were fairly found of him
To give the man his due
Because his conversation
Was so genuine and true.

We'd pass away the winter nights
On Cullyhanna square
With scary tales and stories
That often raised the hair.
There was Frank and Joe and Kevin
Lennon and Jim Eddie.
Young Micky could ignite the craic
For he was ever ready.

These little episodes we had
I' m happy to relate
For he'd done the same himself
His courage lay on fate.
Although we didn't say goodbye
I know it's not the end
We'll meet again on solid ground
My ever ready friend.

RIP 15/11/73