cuisle week

old IRA stories from a time long since past

Close call


Will you leave a light in your window just for me?

So if I make it home I’ll have something there to see,

For I leave you now and am bound by foot and hand,

My crime it would appear is I love this dear old land,

Perhaps a little candle when lit for me would tell,

That I am not alone in that dark and dismal cell,

There is no light and I can’t tell night from day,

All the questions they ask me and my answer always nay,

Who they ask delivered you all that contraband,

And told you, you were saving your beloved Ireland,

My reply is still the same I found them when I awoke,

No one stood beside them not a word was ever spoke,

For someone left them there in the garden by the shed,

As I arose that morning said person’s they had fled,

Perhaps the one who told you they were buried within my plot,

Are trying now to tell you I am someone, whom I’m not,

And point you like a bullet from one of those hidden guns,

So they can plot and plan perhaps they are the ones,

Yet no, you call on me a married man but unemployed,

And say to all who listen that its guns I have to hide,

A wife and several children left crying in the home,

And I should rot in this dark place lonely and alone,

And rot I will and my mouth closed forever shall I keep,

To be shot at dawn and down a hole forever buried deep,

Then look at all you have achieved for your blessed queen,

My children now recruits for the injustice they have seen,

And they will not forget as you took me bound foot and hand,

I just dug a hole on my little plot of land,

For fear the kids would find a rifle or a gun,

And think they were a toy and shoot someone for fun,

I hope there is a light left in the window just for me,

And as my soul departs this earth it will gladly see,

That a father will protect his wife his daughter and his son,

So their future might be brighter and they will carry on,

And I am not alone as I sit in this dark and dreary cell,

Nor will I sleep this night as I damn you all to hell,

No name will I write on this charge of hiding contraband,

You’ll never understand us for you are just black and tans,

As the door was opened and the dawn shone bright inside,

Freedom mine thank god they didn’t find all I had to hide.

10 Oct. 11


for mental health week

The devil depression.


Sitting alone at home on a cold rainy day,

Watching TV on the couch where I lay,

An old friend long since put to the back of my mind,

Did by strange chance come for me to find,

As I lay there watching some of the daytime soap’s,

He brought with him some friends called ropes,

Make one of these your very best friend,

And he will see you through to your very end,

If all your troubles you want to stand still,

Just look at this jar I have with pills,

A glass of water and down in one,

Your woes and troubles will all be gone,

Take one pill for each thing you worry,

And never again will you have to be sorry,

Walk with me along to the fast flowing river,

The further you sink the less you will shiver,

Walk to a tall building on any city street,

Climb to the top and then jump with both feet,

Keep on falling until you hit the ground,

Peace and quiet is what you have found,

This so called friend from the back of my mind,

By no strange chance did come and me did find,

We all know him well but we don’t confess,

He ‘is friends with all, who are depressed,

But no true friend would tell you lies,

Or help you end your mortal ties,

Or make you feel so ill at ease,

Depression his name he’s a mind disease,

Not easily seen in the physical sense,

A smile can often hide his competence,

Not all his friends will gain much reprieve,

And cast him from their mind to leave,

And when he goes but who can tell,

His absence leaves you feeling well,

A better life will then succeed,

Having paid, that devil, depression, no heed.

23 January 2011