When I was a child
I was like a boy Buddha
Ignorant and undisturbed

Speak to me in stone
Of time with out end
The wind and the rain
Like smoke upon the mountains

After the harvest
Wild apples and damsins
Nutsand acorns
Blackberries and sloes
Mackerel in shoals
Coming in after the sprats
Hope of mushrooms after the Equinox

After the harvest
Shooting stars over Ringabella
Orion arcs through the night
South East South West
The dipper dips
And if I had a wish
Well how I'd wish

After the harvest
A trickle of grain along the verge
Dead rabbits on the road
Traffic accidents
And no-one left to pick 'em up

After the harvest
A vision made me sad
For in my vision I saw
A pale plane place
Distinguished by its sameness
Two storey bungalows with satellite dishes
Here and there
Across an empty vacant land
Of barbed wire electric fence & catte grids
And even the hills have disappeared
Beneath the Christmas trees.


Is í an dias troime is isle a chrómas a ceann.
It is the heaviest ear of grain that bends its head the lowest

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