I Remember

I Remember

I remember, I remember, the days when I was young

When every day was a holiday and everything was fun.

When minds were clear and thoughts were pure

In childhood innocence

And a boy was really wealthy if he had just three pence.

 

I remember, I remember, when I was only three,

And played at riding horses upon my daddy’s knee,

Or walked out along the Lifford Road out to the Camel’s Hump,

If I frightened at the ‘Puff Puffs’, into his arms I’d Jump

.

I remember, I remember, when I was only four

Watching Croghan in the sunset not far from our front door.

And in my tender childhood mind, thoughts round and round were whirled

Convincing me that Croghan was the limit of the world.

 

I remember, I remember, when I was only five,

Before I even started school, ‘twas great to be alive.

When with the baby in the pram mammy dear and I

Would dander down the old Bog Road, the blackberries to try.

 

I remember I remember when I was only six,

When out to Baronscourt we’d go on Sunday school picnics.

When tea and buns and games and fun were had my old and young

And Elliott’s mineral Waters were drunk there; ‘by the ton’.

 

I remember, I remember, when I was seven

I thought that far off Errigal was just next door to heaven

And Muckish and the Bluestacks were holding up the sky,

And when it started raining ‘someone had made God cry’.

 

I remember, I remember, when I was only eight

When war was over and peace had come and I could stay up late

To watch the bonfires blazing at the top of Knockavoe

Or listen to the music of the bands that played below.

 

I remember, I remember, when I was only nine,

When up the Ballycolman lane I’d gather wild woodbine,

Or gaze across the river at the graveyard on the brae,

Or, over at the Spires of the town not far away.

I remember, I remember, when I was only ten

When with my mother and my pals we went out to the glen,

And lit a fire of sticks and ferns to boil a can of tea

With water from the babbling burn beside the Cottage Lea.

 

God be with the good old days. The days of our childhood, When everything seemed easy and everything was good.

God be with the children in weather cold and hot

And keep them free from harm by fire, bomb or shot.

 

By TomMcDevitte

 

This poem was first published in the Strabane Weekly under Tom Mc Devitte’s   well known storyteller, broadcaster Barney Mc Cool

With permission it was included in the ‘Scribblers’ anthology of short stories and poems in the spring of 1999

It’s my pleasure to include it in writeyouwriteme. wordpress.