Lend me your ears for a moment of two

A tale of a horse I will tell to you

Of a piebald that stood fourteen two

On passing Tuirin Dubh, would come into view.


Smirnoff, a drink you may say

Was a creature that loved her bale of hay

In the glen she would graze, gallop and run

An when the kids would call

To the fence she would come.


Was partial to slice pan or mothers queen buns.

Her master a decent honorable man

A descendant of the O Leary clan

A lover of all creatures great and small

Wouldn’t step on a spider nor a mouse in the stall.


But Pat has a grievance now for two crooks

Crooks with a disregard for the law of the land

On Smirnoff laid a thieving hand

The cover of darkness wasn’t needed

Brazen and bold in the cold light of day they succeeded.


Now she wasn’t bred by the Agar Kahn

In the national never ran

Her ilk to be found in Baile Bui

Where horse men come from far and near

A bargain to acquire

In that West Cork town, home of Sam Maguire.


But her weight in gold can’t compare

To little faces now in despair

And yet they ask every day “oh why did Smirnoff go away”

O don’t let her be a memory in portrait or in mind.

I wish you luck this day O’Shea, those thieving crooks to find,

And come next spring, When birds will sing

And green won’t subside

You’ll give O Leary back his pride

Smirnoff with a kicking foal by her side.


                                                                                      Mick Dineen   



Fun Cycle Day


Did you get on your bike on fun cycle day

and head for Kenmare in the old fashioned way.

Were you in training for four weeks or six

or was it just the day before you got your bike fixed.


Were you puffing or panting on the way to the Glen,

look down on your pebbles and said “dear God, what gear am I in”.

Did you pass Top Of Coom with a want and a thirst

or say to your self I’m over the worst.


Reached Kenmare without fright or fall

but then had to listen to old Fianna Fail.

Or were you inspired by Jackic Healy Rae

or was it JK who rode all the whole way

with elegance and ease

no trace of síghe gaoithe nor breeze.


Did you get on your bike on fun cycle day

and show your legs to the light of day.

Were you afflicted with aliments not seen before,

walked like John Wyane with saddle sore.


It matters not one mile or two, climb or decent

you came and you went.

The heart willing, the pocket giving

Mary Mount Hospice all the more for your shilling,

Many friends you have made although you haven’t met

when you gave of your time for those with little time left. 



                                                                             Mike Dineen      





An Sean Feirmeoir


Scamaill ag cur scríbhneoireacht sa spéir

Feirmeoir ag obair san móinéir

Fáinleoga ag eitilt ina thimpeall

É ina dhícheall ó mhaidin go hoíche

Ar sluasaid, ar phíce


An t-earrach, an t-samhraidh, an geimhreadh, an fómhar

Saol crua saol an sean feirmeoir.


Laethanta fada ar speal

Ciúnas an domhain os a comhair amach

Ach an speal ag buala an féar glas

Doirnín i dhá dhorn

Fola ar allas faoi spear ghorm


An portach nú an ghort ar slean nú ghrafán

Ag piocadh prátaí nú ag deanamh púcán,

I bfhad ón dinnéar, buidéal bainne is píosa arán,

Ag iompar ciseán nú ag casadh súgán


An t-earrach, an t-samhradh, an geimhreadh, an fomhar,

Saol crua,  saol an sean feirmeoir


Ag deanamh chlaí le clocha trom

Ag crú na bá nú ag tarraingt gamhain

Lámha láidir crochta ar ghualainn leathan

Cosa traochta ina dhiaidh capall is céachta

Dochtúir ag cealg a dhroim

Míle corrabhiolla timpeall a cheann


An t-earrach, an t-samhradh, an geimhreadh, an fomhar,

Saol crua, saol an sean feirmeoir


Fir righn, fir láidir, fir an lae inné sínte

Anois curtha faoi cré.


                                                                                      Mick Dineen