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Of Straw and Scraw

Of Straw and Scraw


T'was with the fancy houses

Of Lords and ladies born

Of oak trees, swans and stables

Of roses all adorn

That caught my eye and had me often

Swooning at the knee

When he would cast his eye aside

Not a bit impressed was he.

His love was for the simple house

Where peasants would abide

The humble little cottages

Tucked along the mountainside.

I asked him why he chose these dwellings

'Ore the other grander place

He sat with mug of tea in hand

A smile lit up his face

And as he spoke

Through fireside smoke

His words they sang a song

Of memories long forgotten

Of ancestors now long gone.

"A stór, you have forgotten where your families history lie

And where our people lived their lives-

Gave birth, worked hard and died.

T'was not within a stately home

or of the Manor born

Not lived through those large window panes or chair seats never worn.

A sweeping staircase don't make me sigh

Or fill my eye with tear

A ceiling full of acorn leaves

doth leave me cold my dear

For I'm an Irish man of old

Who thinks on times gone past

We built these homes with our bare hands

We built them made to last

It wasn't under Spainish slate or red brick I called home

T'was wood and earth

And straw and scraw

With walls made from field stone.

And of all the souls that I hold dear

Of all my kit and kin

Each one of them I still see here their memory locked within.

Just like the peat

That made the heat

His wise words caused a spark

And as we sat with song and chat

Their meaning left a mark

For as I walked out

Through the old half door

I turned my head to say goodbye

My soul felt heaving leaving

And a tear fell from my eye

Áine McGarry 🌞

Photo by Willie Forde Photography

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