AN OLD GUY Dec 9th, 2011
By
Sometimes I see an old guy I knew and should still know,
But then I realize he died at least fifty years ago,
And only then I realize I must be getting very old,
And wish I could go back again and do it all twice as bold.
Where priests and bishops ruled the roost and nobody really knew,
Where single virgins were a dime a dozen and sex was taboo,
Where mass on Sunday and Friday devotions were compulsory,
Pompous priestly confessions once a week and no adultery.
My memories are sometimes stuck in the year nineteen fifty two,
It’s highly likely that year doesn’t mean too much to you,
In the old back lanes of Ennis where being poor was not new,
Before they sent me to Canada and I said adieu.
I know, I know, that was over sixty years and long ago,
When we were all poor and no one had heard of the euro,
Even today, I’m reluctant to say that such a place existed,
No one would believe me and say I must be twisted.
Dec 9th, 2011
