Poetry

Farewell Sweet Lass

I envied you as I attended Derrynanta School on the hill,

Your graceful figure, long hair dark as the ravens wing,

Friendly and studious, the joy of you widowed mother.

Your books neat and clean, the pride of the school.

I remember you happily guiding your brothers, over the hills in winter gales and

summer rains.

 

Prosperity and affluence you never knew.

But kindness and happiness aplenty shone through,

At an early age you joined your fair cousins in England's heartland,

Your homecomings to the glen brought music, laughter and song.

The rafters rang as folk danced through the break of dawn.

 

On a bleak December morning, the sad news reached the valley,

That your youthful dreams had ended tragically in a foreign land.

The banshees cry re echoed from Cuilcaghs slopes to the Shannon's banks,

In deep felt sorrow for one so kind.

 

The wake continued for days as your last sad journey to the cemetery on the hillside

was awaited,

It seemed so cruel to stand by your graveside, so poignant and still.

The young folks staring in disbelief, whilst their elders murmured "Gods Will"

 

Your poor widowed mother, your brothers, your friends,

You were the light of their lives to the end,

Farewell sweet Celia, you were cut down in your prime.

May the Lord grant you a home, with kindness and laughter tilt the end of time

 

In memory of Celia McGovern who died tragically in England in the fifties.