On The Passing Of Lizzie Hickey
I've heard of the passing of Lizzie Hickey a long life on this Earth she did enjoy
And she now lives on in another atmosphere for good people such as she will never die
Yes she lives on somewhere in the hereafter for the reaper never lays claim to the soul
And she is one I always will remember when back the lanes of memory I will stroll.
A Faithful wife to the late Johnny Hickey she raised four children Donal, Joan, John Francis and Jane
And she was a role model and a mentor and marvellous memories of her I retain
I felt saddened at the news of her passing but time 'twould seem for anyone doesn't wait
And we ought not to mourn Lizzie Hickey but her marvellous life we ought to celebrate.
There was so much to like about that woman a great role model to us school going boys
We admired her for her great depth of knowledge so down to earth and yet so very wise,
She was one of the most likeable people and in her kind heart there was so much good
And in her life she never made an enemy and she would only help you if she could.
I heard of the passing of Lizzie Hickey she now is living in a better place
At Inchaleigh close to the Town of Millstreet in our young years her's was a familiar face
She only left her soul elsewhere is living that part of her is never going to die
And in that Land that we know as the hereafter her new life she's beginning to enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Jean Hickey
Jean Hickey than me is a few years older I knew her long before she met and married Ted O Shea
And she went to live in Finnanefield in Kilcorney from Inchaleigh in Millstreet five or six miles away
I have not seen her for years but her I will remember until the reaper gives the call to me
Good people like her one does not wish to forget and she did not fade from my memory.
Jean Hickey always is the quiet achiever the quiet achiever in her own quiet way
She has helped so many people in their times of illness though of her good deeds she never has much to say
A nurse who is devoted to her calling and in her kind heart there is only good
And people like her invaluable to society for she would only help you if she could.
In the year 06 she will retire as a District Nurse and from the call of duty she will have earned her rest
And it will take a special person to replace her for at her job she is one of the best
But as we know people do not last forever and retirement one day comes to one and all
Though Jean she played her part and in no small way and she was there to answer every call.
In the year 06 from Nursing she's retiring one well might say a rest she is overdue
Jean Hickey always is the quiet achiever and to the corporal works of mercy she is true
In her years as district nurse she has cared for many ill people and the story of her life ought to be told
And of this marvellous woman it can be said that she is truly worth her weight in gold.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Hearing Of The Death Of Kevin Hickey
Sad news a news that travels far and wide
And I was told of how young Kevin Hickey died
On the Shannaknock road of his car he lost control
And the reaper claimed his body not his soul.
He was pre-deceased by his Mother Kathleen
And his better days in life he had not seen
And his father John is left to bear sorrow's cross
And grieve the tragedy of his heart-breaking loss.
And though the accident that claimed young Kevin's life happened a few years ago
The scars of grief to heal are always slow
And the pain at the loss of his son in such a tragic way
With John Hickey till his own end will stay.
At the spot where Kevin died John erected a grotto as a memorial to his son
And it would seem that is as much as anyone could have done
To honour some one that they loved so dear
Such stories of love are heartening to hear.
I have heard of how young Kevin Hickey died
And such sad news does travel far and wide
And his remains will rest in peace forever more
But his soul lives on the soul has wings to soar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Donal Hickey
We were in the same classroom in Millstreet Primary school
And Donal was a clever boy he never once sat on the dunce's stool
He still lives in the old home in Inchaleigh though I live far away
From Clara hill near Millstreet Town and the fields of Claraghatlea.
He has worked in the Cork Marts for many years three decades maybe more
And he is well into his fifties now and of years near the three score
A hunting man he knows the countryside for miles around
And he could tell you where the earth of fox or badger would be found.
I last met Donal Hickey almost two decades ago
On a November sunday cold and gray the stream bank high did flow
And Clara with the bracken face he wore a cloak of fog
Out hunting with his terriers in Jack the Master's bog.
One who lives close to Nature and of Nature much he know
On sunday he's out hunting rain, hail, sunshine or snow
He keep the best fox terriers the best for miles around
Brave and fearless little hunters for fox they go to ground.
One of the nicest people that one could wish to meet
He still lives in the old homeplace at Inchaleigh in Millstreet
In that green and fertile countryside where the Finnow waters flow
And we were in the same classroom more than forty years ago.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Boy Mimics The Father
The boy mimics the father he is his father's son
And he tells all of his young mates of the good things his dad has done
The mentors of tomorrow are the fathers of today
Through your good or bad example your child follows the way.
Since dad was his role model before he walked on his feet
The mistakes of the father the son he will repeat
The mentor of his young years is the mentor of his life
He watched dad beat his mother he too will beat his wife.
The boys mimics the father though you well may disagree
That us humans are impressionable but that's how 'twould seem to me
The main role model of our childhood through life points us the way
The young rogue of the future is the son of the rogue of today.
That the boy mimics the father in most cases does apply
And why this should be I cannot say though I can understand why
The boy mimics the father his role model is dad
And most times that is a good thing though on rare occasions it can be bad.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Is Wisdom Not Highly Valued
As long as to be a better person you it does inspire
'Tis good for you for to have one to admire
One who leads by good example to the higher self true
Such a person such a good role model for you
Yet I know an old bloke he is very wise
Though that none has him as a role model comes as no surprise
Since he is not famous or even well known
This quiet old fellow who lives on his own
A gray haired old fellow in his own way kind
And one wiser than him would be quite hard to find
But that none sees him as a mentor does seem sad to say
Is wisdom not highly valued in the World of today
On his knowledge of life one cannot put a price
Yet none go to him for to ask for advice.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Jo Mountwinter
She may be in her eighties and the years have left her gray
But she sticks up for the underdog and of her one can only say
That she is one in a billion people like her are rare
There's only one Jo Mountwinter with her none to compare.
She is so very humorous so clever and so wise
And that woman has me laughing till tears come to my eyes
Her beautiful earthy accent is with her for to stay
Till the reaper will claim her the one who will claim us all one day.
For the sufferings of others she shows her empathy
And for poor asylum seekers in detention she has great sympathy
She dislikes the Conservative Government by the Aussie voters empowered
And she verbally attacks the hypocritical values of Amanda Vanstone and John Howard
Yet she criticizes the Government in such a humorous way
And one cannot help but to laugh aloud at some of the things she say
The woman deserves credit since credit she is due
To a fair go for all people she always will be true.
I know one of her daughter's Jessica a chip of the old block
Just like her marvellous mother of good old Socialist stock
If everyone thought like them a different World 'twould be
We would not have discrimination and crimes against Humanity.
The marvellous Jo Mountwinter is eighty I am told
But in her heart she is quite young and she does not look old
A fighter for worthy causes and a role model for the young
And her humour is contagious and her praises must be sung.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Four Schoolboys And A Dog
The countryside around wore Summer colours
The haycocks in mown meadows standing white
And the pasture fields surrounded by green hedgerows
Resplendent in the afternoon sunlight.
Four School going boys climbed the slopes of Clara mountain
Donal Hickey, Jerry and John Mahony and I
And Donal had his terrier 'Bonzo' with him
On that sunday long ago in mid July.
Four Primary Schoolgoing boys on Clara mountain
The countryside was beautiful to view
We picked and eat the whortleberries from the heather
The whortleberries small and ripe and blue.
The whortleberries ripe fruits of the heather
In July when ripe so beautiful to eat
You find them on the Cork and Kery mountains
Towards east Kerry from Macroom and Millstreet.
Old Bonzo trailed a fox up through the bracken
The ageing dog had known a better day
He puffed uphill the fox had long since bolted
Perhaps by then a half a mile away.
Twenty minutes later Bonzo came back exhausted
He panted heavy he was out of puff
He lay by his master Donal on the bracken
And stretched himself as if to say enough.
That day we climbed to wooden cross on top of Clara
That overlooked the streets of Millstreet Town
The uphill crawl on energy demanding
Though it was quite an easy journey down.
Our shirt sleeves soiled from the juices of whortleberries
Of Nature's fruits that day we'd ate our fill
And that night I climbed into my bed exhausted
From day of climbing on the bracken hill.
Jerry Mahony and Donal Hickey still in Millstreet
And John Mahony lives in England I've been told
And the boys back then long years beyond their prime day
And by the younger generation seen as old.
And poor old Bonzo he died on the roadway
I heard he was run over by a car
And I am living far away from Millstreet
From the fields by Clara mountain I live far.
Four Schoolboys and a dog on Clara mountain
And the singing lark towards heaven's gate did fly
And the ripened whortleberries tasted juicy
On that sunday long ago in mid July.
The countrysiode around in summer colours
And the haycocks in mown meadows standing white
And the pasture fields surrounded by green hedgerows
Resplendent in the afternoon sunlight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Lisa Bellear
She was a marvellous woman and people like her are rare
The activist, poet and singer the great Lisa Bellear
Dead in her forty sixth year that seems so young to die
The reaper who claimed her life will claim the life of you and i.
In the aboriginal society of Melbourne her's was a well known name
And in greater Australia not a stranger to fame
A beautiful human being she had a heart of gold
The good die young true in her case she was not meant to grow old.
Gone from life but not forgotten yet none to take her place
With others she shared her gift of laughter and life she did embrace
The Melbourne indigenous community are in mourning the tears for her will flow
They have lost a friend and mentor one they did love and know.
I heard in the news this morning Lisa Bellear had died
An indigenous activist she was known far and wide
And may she rest in peace now back to Nature she has gone
But fond memories of the great one are destined to live on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Children Are The Future Of Humanity
The children are the future of Humanity so teach the children well
And as their teacher your knowledge of Life and Nature to them you ought to tell
And teach them to respect our Mother Earth the one who feeds us all
And in years from now to you they will be grateful when memories of you they will recall.
The children are the future of Humanity but for guidance on you they do depend
They need you as a mentor and they need you as a friend
Children are innocent and easily led astray good role models they do need
That you have been chosen as their mentor to you is a great honour indeed.
Children who do not have good role models in life are easily led astray
That they do not receive a fair go does seem so sad to say
Far too many young children become victims of abuse
For wronging children in any way there cannot be an excuse.
As the teacher of the children you've been chosen for to lead
And though of good mentors and teachers we seldom hear about or read
That you do your best as a teacher for you enough of success
To young people that you mentor you bring hope and happiness.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dan and Mary Ellen
With fondness I remember my aunt Mary Ellen the woman married to my uncle Dan
She was my role model and mentor long before I grew into a man
She taught me old songs from her childhood and poems to me she did recite
And she gave me valuable insights on Nature before I learned how to read and to write.
She and Dan in life did have their crosses their only child a girl in her childhood died
Their happiness at the birth of their daughter by the reaper's scythe to them denied
But Mary she got on with her life and her cross she bravely did bear
And her sense of loss never made her feel bitter and she never said life was unfair.
A lover of old poems and stories she knew the words of many a song
That she used to sing by the turf fire on Winter nights cold, wet, windy and long
She recited poems of the bards of Sliabh Luachra old greats from the centuries ago
So wise and knowledgeable for one self educated and so much about life she did know.
With Dan whom she spent many Seasons in the grave-yard at Cullen she lay
I mourned at the news of their passing though from Lisnaboy I live far away
They were generous with their wisdom and their knowledge of life they passed on down
And at peace their bones now rest in Cullen some seven miles from Millstreet Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dan And Nora Sullivan
They lived in the cottage by the gate to Tubrid Well the Sullivans Nora and Dan
For at least three score and ten years in time a lengthy span
Till failing health and the wear of age on them both did take toll
And the turning back of the hands of time is beyond human control.
The brother and sister Dan and Nora Sullivan I never more will see
They were claimed by the reaper the one who will claim me
But memories of them till my end with me I will retain
And each time I look back on my past they come to life again
I do recall at Christmas time Nora always remembered me
A greeting card from a dear old friend beyond the northern sea
She outlived Dan by six or seven years and news of her death reduced me to tears
For a mentor and role model of my long gone childhod years.
I knew them in my younger years from the same Townland as I
Two people I looked up to when I was a school going boy,
Dan and Nora Sullivan they could not live with a lie
And it truly could be said of them that they would not harm a fly.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Toots Kelleher From Millstreet
In the late forties and all through the fifties and that's going back in time
Toots Kelleher from Millstreet was in his glorious prime
In the game of Gaelic Football the great man knew great fame
And through the length and breadth of Ireland his was a well known name.
Toots Kelleher from Millstreet was one of Ireland's best
And he never was found wanting when he was put to the test
The poets and song writers they sung his praises loud
And in Duhallow we revered him of him we felt so proud.
For Cork and his Club Millstreet some marvellous games he played
And despite the passing decades the memories do not fade
Of Toots Kelleher from Millstreet fearless in the field of play
A legend in his life time and a legend still today.
Toots Kelleher from Millstreet is at rest forever more
But often in flights of fancy I can hear the mighty roar
Of the Munster final crowd in Killarney when Toots had the football
A memory to cherish and a memory to recall.
Toots Kelleher from Millstreet his praises have been sung
Often watched him play for Millstreet years ago when I was young
Exuberant in victory and gallant in defeat
One who was hero worshipped but never knew conceit.
A Champion Gaelic Footballer we honour him today
Toots Kelleher from Millstreet at peace forever lay
His name will live forever in the history of Gaelic Football
And the Reaper who has claimed him will one day claim us all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Non Swimming Man Of The Sea
He had his own fishing boat for many years though he never ventured far out to sea
And from fishing he made a good living enough to upkeep his family
He was born and he still lives near the ocean and the ocean holds no fears for him
But to many it may seem a bit strange that he's never learned how to swim.
Though he left school young for to fish with his father he's a bright man and nobody's fool
And his son and daughter live in the big city their children in Primary school
Two years ago his wife she died suddenly they had been married for thirty five years
And though for her his grieving is over thoughts of her still move him to tears.
A year younger than him she felt quite well till a massive heart attack struck her down
And one day he too will go to join her in the grave yard in the sea side Town
He had a wish to be cremated and his ashes spread on the sea shore
But to his wife he must remain true and with her he will lay forever more.
He sold his fishing boat when his wife died his great zest for life with her died
He now lives on the old age pension and from his cottage he can hear the tide
Rage against the rocks on the fore shore the huge waves they rumble and roll
The immortal voice of the ocean is ever soothing to his soul.
Last February he turned seventy and the years have left him gray and slow
Still he finds comfort in his good memories of his better days decades ago
Of his beautiful wife and their children but life part of mortality
And the Reaper is now quietly waiting for the non swimming man of the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nora Sullivan
In their cottage in Claraghatlea she lived with her only brother Dan
And she was way beyond mid life when i was a young man
Her name was Nora Sullivan one who was good and kind
And people of her type are rare and always hard to find.
She lived to a fairly good age and though her I'm never more to see
The mental pictures of her are etched in my memory
A mentor of my childhood years and a privilege to know
I spoke to her for the last time some twenty years ago.
She was a devout lady and religious in a good way
And of any other person she never had bad to say
When I return to Millstreet I will not see her again
But good and fond memories of her till my own end I'll retain.
I always will remember her for her warm smile and kind eyes
And she was an honest person so honourable and wise
The pathway to a moral life she always did pursue
And to her God and her higher self she always was so true.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Hardly A Role Model
Hardly a role model for every young boy
Though his retirement I do hope he enjoy
He waged war on Iraq and Afghanistan
He abused his power he is not a wise man
In a direct or an indirect way thousands because of him have died
To his Presidency historians will not look back in pride
One can say he used his power in a bad way
We reap what we sow as some are known to say
A war loving man who in war does believe
In January 09 The White House he must leave
To millions of people heartbreak he did bring
And not many people his praises will sing
In his ranch in Texas he'll retire with his wife
Where he can relax and enjoy the good life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Dear Sister Mary
It has been a few years since her I did see
Yet none quite so kind or as lovely as she
A grandmother to John Gregory son of Melissa and her son John
The years ticking by but she keeps keeping on.
As good a person would be so hard to find
As my dear sister Mary so honest and kind
About her she has such a beautiful way
The truth of her here is all that I can say.
Though she lives in New York in the U S of A
A mentor of my childhood and she still is today
I have always looked up to her and her I admire
And of singing her praises I could never tire.
Her deceased husband John was a good man and to him she was a good wife
And together they had such a wonderful life
But fond memories of him her and her son John will always retain
And in the life of John Gregory he lives again
My mentor and sibling much to her I do owe
The seeds of good karma for herself she does sow
She is one who believes on a fair go for all
And only good things about her I have to recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Bud Tingwell
Bud Tingwell he did have a lengthy life span
And he was a good actor and quite a good man
A famous Australian who was known Worldwide
One could only feel sad to hear that he had died
In his life so many friends the great man made
And widespread respect to him in his passing deservedly paid
A great mentor to aspiring young actors in his long acting career
To so many film buffs himself he did endear
At living a good life one who did succeed
One by good example who always did lead
A man who has been honoured in story and rhyme
His name will live on through the annals of time
For him his separation from life was a painful release
Bud Tingwell the great man may he rest in peace
poem by Francis Duggan
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Life Is Just A Passing Parade
When I was a little boy
I was raised down south in mexico
Nothing ever happened that was new to me
Then one day we saw circus posters on the wall
Suddenly, all my friends and i
We heard a sound
It was loud
Music all around us seemed to make us free
Life is just a passing paradise
Life is just a passing paradise
Everybody started dancing
I never saw so many people having so much fun
Now Im living in this country
And I have got myself a steady job
I keep seeing people happy everywhere
All I get to do is play my guitar
Come on! everybody get together, have some fun
Come on! everybody get together, have some fun
Life is just a passing paradise
Life is just a passing paradise
Everybody started dancing
I never saw so many people having so much fun
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnny McCarthy
He lived in a small house near the Town of Millstreet
At Inchaleigh close to the greyhound track
Some knew him as Johnny the old house painter
Whilst others simply called him Johnny Mac.
He was unmarried never fathered children
Which seems a pity as he'd have made a good dad
In his twilight years he walked his terrier Brandy
And Johnny said the best dog I have had.
He was a house painter and decorator
And he worked hard to earn his every bob
And those he worked for gave him more employment
For Johnny always did a tasty job.
Some people thought him to be a bit grumpy
But is there a perfect person anyway?
When hung over after a night out drinking
One can hardly feel too cheerful the next day.
He was an honest man Johnny McCarthy
A character of sorts in his own way
Since he last walked to Millstreet Town with his dog Brandy
On looking back it seems like yesterday.
Some knew him as Johnny the old house painter
Whilst others simply called him Johnny Mac
He lived at Inchaleigh close to the Town of Millstreet
In his small house close to the greyhound track
poem by Francis Duggan
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Positive Role Model
Here we are
where we were
back on everything
Went too far
now we're fine
back on everything
So much for making it day by day
Back on everything
Instead of taking another way
we're back on everything
I want a positive role model
I want a positive role model
My reflection on the street
Is that the way I walk?
Introspection as I speak
I need to change the way I talk
In a changing world
there's so much you could be
Why can't you choose your self
like your enemy?
Have you ever imagined
a new you?
I could be someone else
Somebody new
Reinvention:
my intention
I want a positive role model
I want a positive role model
I want a positive role model
I want a positive role model
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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