Murt of Barracurragh
by Ciaran & Jennifer O’Sullivan

Many names you might have had:
Brother, husband, uncle, dad,
 Cousin, granddad, friend or foe,
We all miss you the same though.
The dogs are still waiting for your gravelly growl,
Your grandchildren miss their after-school friend,
All their love to you they send.

You were your own expert mechanic,
As stubborn as Billy Byrne’s donkey,
With hands of a busy giant “if you don’t mind”.
The postman’s rounds finish early
‘ cos you’re not around.
In the years of pain with a selfless smile
You welcomed all to stop awhile.

Sometimes in contemplation you dwelt
With Joyce’s words-the passion felt.
Many years have gone by,
But our memories of you will never die.

Not lying in Limbrick shale-
But alive in every tale.


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