Smirnoff
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
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