At Times Like This

Posted on Oct 29, 2011


At times like this he misses Ireland so
The people, the music, the drink that flows
Craic to be had anywhere you find
From the madness of Eire there’s nowhere to hide

So he dwells on his past in Ireland’s towns
In cities and mountains, colours green and brown
Of smiley faces and happy grumbles
From high-pitched accents to funny mumbles

He misses the walks by rivers and sea
By castles and cathedrals, past amazing history
Boats gently swaying in harbour towns
This land of happy souls and ancient crowns

He desires to return one day soon
When the times right, he’ll go back to bloom
For Ireland he thinks that it’s his calling
His spiritual home that stops him falling

A whisper from the sea carried and called to him
His blood thick with Celtic origin
Perhaps that’s why he feels the pull
Of Ireland’s magic, Hibernia’s call

He knows why those that left wish to return
Something in the water, the air, the land, he’s learned
For the Irish can live and adept anywhere
But It’s Ireland they love, It’s for Eire they care

Posted in: Poetry