POETRY ARCHIVE ..........Ret. To History

FATHER W.M. CASEY OF ABBEYFEALE ..Sean O`Choileain (An Seanfhile)

My Irish fellow-countrymen, alas we mourn today.

For death has claimed our hero famed, and his spirit passed away.

Our exiled friends in foreign lands with sorrow heard the tale.

They hoped once more to clasp his hands in dear old Abbeyfale.

In Land League days when men arose to Michael Davitt`s call

Prepared to meet his country`s foes with bayonet and with ball.

He proudly raised the green flag high and never yet did quail,

As martial music reached the skies from his band in Abbeyfale.

When O`Grady came with fire and ball and burned the dwellings down.

His hireling crew, they did subdue the county and the town

`Twas Father Casey`s powerful league that soon brought on the sale.

For the bailiffs went without the rent that day in Abbeyfale.

Thank God he lived to see the day his parishioners were free.

For not a landlord there held sway, but were banished o`er the sea.

As St. Patrick drove the serpents grim away from Innisfail,

So Father Casey banished them from dear old Abbeyfale.

He was a kind and loving man, and our hearts are filled with grief.

Mo bhron! He`s gone, that holy man, that fiery Galtee Chief,

Who never yet denied the poor, nor scorned the orphan`s wail,

For they left their blessings at his door in dear old Abbeyfale

When the master called, he did obey and freely gave consent.

So let us all unite today to raise his monument.

For well he knew his time had come, when he heard the banshee`s wale.

But his noble spirit hovers yet, over dear old Abbeyfale.

DROMTRASNA SCHOOL 1936

The schoolhouse at Dromtrasna, I think I see it still.

Banard and Meenaheela, Sweet Bogmount and The Hill

We walked up to Twomey`s Turn, proceeded past the pole.

And when we reached the schoolhouse, the master called the roll.

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Pat Connell was Headmaster. (Mister Doody reigned before.)

Jackie Curtin from Meenkilly taught classes Three and Four.

Mrs Colbert taught the infants. Of her kindness, I can tell.

She saw the Inspector`s motor approach the Blessed Well.

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We prepared for Confirmation, and the visit from the Dean.

In the schoolyard we played hurling when Mick Mackey wore the green.

The Bog Road in the evenings found the Master walking there.

He walked past John Joe Kelly`s to breathe the heavenly air.

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We walked to school each morning, with our faces all aglow,

And our sods beneath our arms in the days of long ago.

Sean O hAirtneada.

THE PASSING OF TOM O`BRIEN.

A travelling man is dead and gone. He`ll roam the roads no more.

That soul so fine of Tom O`Brien has fled to Heaven`s shore.

For eighty years `mid smiles and tears, he jogged from town to town.

Through Erin`s land, the green and bland, from Cork to County Down.

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No village street, but his strong feet have trod on Ireland`s ground.

He often camped at Dalton`s Cross, Mountmahon and The Pound.

Salisbury Plain and Flanders were seen by gallant Tom.

He fought the German Army at the Battle of the Somme.

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He mended cans and pots and pans. The tinsmith`s trade, you know.

And thousands came to bless his name on a day of sleet and snow.

His funeral in Sweet Listowel, no grander e`er was seen.

The travellers came from near and far, his passing for to "caoin"

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The cortege from Newcastlewest, through Abbeyfeale did go;

They drank a health at Jimmy Joy`s as oftimes long ago.

May God be good to you, old stock, true hearted friend of mine;

I`ll keep your ass and caravan, and pray for Tom O`Brien.

Sean O hAirtneada.