Thursday 22 September 2011

poems read in the whitehouse bar this week

--fond memories of years gone by

Headless coachman


There is a stretch of road leading to knocklasheen,

That never a dry day was ever to be seen,

A dark and dismal path was this place,

Anyone walking there had a hurried pace,

Winter it seemed lived on this road,

No sunlight pierced to lighten your load,

A farmhouse planted with fruit and veggies,

Never grew in the dark of delmeges,

Yet children played with ropes for a swing,

Tied to a branch they would sway and sing,

Until evening when the light would stray,

To homes the kids would run away,

For when darkness fell on this patch of land,

An eerie air that all just wasn’t grand,

A horse drawn carriage rising from the mist,

A headless driver from hell to roam unblessed,

Having lost his head on the hangman’s tree,

He must find another to set his soul free,

Over hills and glens he must hurry his load,

In the hope of finding someone on knocklasheen road,

And you dare not walk this murky patch,

When darkness falls your neck he’ll stretch,

And take from you your living head,

And free his soul use yours instead,

Needles and thread in his pouch to stitch,

Your head for his cursed by a witch,

To you the job of driver of the coach,

Trapped without a head your freedom encroached,

From early evening until the dawn,

Don’t play in delmeges make sure you’re gone?

Lest the headless coachman catch you out,

And show you why he is unable to shout,

On the road to knocklasheen where it’s dismal and wet,

Be wary of the dark and never forget,

The trees grow thick and the bushes stand high,

And still to be heard is the headless coachman’s cry.

18 Sep. 11
A neighbour’s child


He called to visit me did James fairy Quinn,

He wanted to know how I was and where I’d been,

He also needed a light for his half of a cigarette,

With his bag full of cans he wasn’t drunk just yet,

He was calling me names from the side of the road,

Hoping to get a good response and me goad,

So as I lit his half a smoke in his shaky hand,

I asked him how his mother was and he said grand,

I just can’t seem to give up this demon drink he said,

And how you now punchy heard your old man is now dead,

He is I agreed but then he was buried so I hope so,

You’re a funny man and I’ll chat till you say go,

Your welcome to stay and I’ll make you some tea,

I will if you throw a sandwich in there for me,

So as he finished his beer and waited for his treat,

I gave him the sandwich with the dinner meat,

Sound you are he said you never leave any of us down,

Even when we’re twisted you give us a lift into town,

Most of the old neighbours don’t want to say much,

They look down their noses and frown and such,

But you know it wasn’t easy growing up where we did,

A lot of us took to this demon drink and hid,

And as for giving it up we try to this day still,

But you know how it is for I just don’t have the will,

We’re from the same place and did the same things in our life,

But this drinking cost me my family and a good wife,

I have no one to blame for where I am right now,

But if I was reared different I might be someone somehow,

Hold on there James I said with a smile on my face,

As long as I live here you are welcome to call on this place,

And I care not for who walks by and you see,

You’re an old neighbour and a lifelong friend to me,

I know this for sure and so do all of the lads who drink,

If we have any bother then it’s of you that we think,

So he shook my hand saying thanks for the food and tea,

I look and think at one time in my life this could have been me.

26-Aug-11

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