She Was A Nice Old Lady
Does it really matter one little bit at all
If only her family and her few friends memories of her do recall
She was a nice old lady that much of her I did know
But she did not die easily her end painful and slow
I had not seen her for somewhile but sad am I to say
That this evening one who knew her told me she was buried yesterday
In the flesh she will not be seen walking in the park again
But fond memories of her in those who knew her are destined to remain
Pre-deceased by her husband he died ten years ago
Their only offspring a Granddad in his late fifties the years on him begin to show
To her son she was a good mother and to her husband she was a good wife
A kind and caring person and one who did love life
Since her husband life departed she had lived on her own
She did not have a public profile and she was not well known.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Old Madge
Old Madge who is in her late eighties is suffering from failing sight
But her memory it is flawless and she remains lucid and bright
She has vivid memories of her childhood which she feels happy to recall
I've had a good life she will tell you but my childhood years were best of all,
Her two great grand daughters are in their mid teens she says them I often do see
They are kind and lovely young ladies they always have been good to me
Her husband Tom died ten years ago they were married for fifty years
His end it was so slow and painful and memories of him still move her to tears
But she has got on with living life she says we cannot dwell in the past
The present is all that does matter though nothing in life seems to last
She surely is an inspiration the Madges of this World are rare
And though her sight it is slowly fading she is one unburdened by care
She always is happy and cheerful and she looks younger than her age
And from her life experiences she has learned much she surely is a female sage.
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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Eddie O Mahony
He never more will walk in the Town of Millstreet in St Mary's cemetery at peace he lay
Perhaps in his mid forties to his early fifties he did die young and it would be fair to say
Of him that he was really a nice person he made so many friends along life's way
And one day his lot it will be our lot as for each of us there is a final day.
In his younger years Eddie O Mahony played Soccer and Gaelic Football in Brian Sullivan's Mal Paso pub he was well known
His family and his many friends will mourn him and Murphy's Terrace and Millstreet Town has lost one of it's own
He seemed so young for to go to the reaper but suppose he was not meant for to grow old
But in the Mal Paso pub his old mates will recall him when stories of the good days will be told.
A youngish man he had so much to live for he did not live for to die as an old man
The reaper takes the young and old and ageing though short in time is the longest life span
One can only hope for Eddie that his end was peaceful that at his end he did not suffer pain
He was well known and well liked around Millstreet and with those who knew him good memories of him will remain.
Pre-deceased by his beloved father Dan O, Eddie is one his friends always will recall
In his younger years as i can well remember he played Sports, Soccer and Gaelic Football
He died as a young enough man that seems so sad of years he did not even reach three score
And he will be sadly missed from the Mal Paso and may he rest in peace forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Are You a Good Husband?
All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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My Husband.
Husband is someone;
You spend most of your life with.
And with him;
You are for years.
My life has become strong;
For my husband is not wrong.
My life has become independent;
For my husband never let me dependent.
My life has become pure;
For my husband had every cure.
My life has become romantic;
For my husband is very aromatic.
My life had a new beginning;
For my husband was nearing.
And the most valuable gift-
My husband has given me;
Are my 2 wonderful and the best kids-
And I thank God,
For the wonderful family he has given me.
poem by Anju Addanki
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27 Years! ! ! ! !
27 years of my life-
I lived like a wife,
waiting for my husband kiss;
Which i always missed.
27 years of my life -
Waited all the nights,
To share my happiness and sadness;
And i felt it was madness.
27 years of my life-
I spent with unknown husband,
Who has time to work;
And I felt like a jerk.
27 years of my life-
I spent with boredom,
And being a loyal wife;
I lost my freedom.
After 27 years of my life-
I still feel something missing,
I still keep looking;
And still waiting.
And the next 27 years will pass by:
Without my husband near by.
poem by Anju Addanki
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A Doctor’s Mistake
As towns flourish and teem with life
Of all colours and creeds
In one of them lived with his wife
A doctor, with certain needs
Life and practice were more than good
He’d friends on every side
Yet took to drugs so oft he could
Which soon would turn the tide
One day a bad mistake was made
A fault he tried to hide
With pills a man in bed was laid
Who very nearly died
His medicine was wrong of course
The doctor was so high
The dose he gave could kill a horse
A man would surely die
For many years the doctor’s wife
Had prayed both night and day
For God to change her husband’s life
And take the drugs away
Her prayers were heard God saw how sad
His daughter lived with tears
Although her husband’s deeds were bad
God freed them of their fears
The doctor’s heart began to melt
He joined his wife in prayer
“Oh Lord my God what guilt I’ve felt
Since knowing You are there”
Salvation came because a wife
Had knelt in fervent prayer
Not only had her husband life
But now! Life’s Truth they share.
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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For My Sister On Her Sixty- Fifth Birthday
FOR MY SISTER ON HER SIXTY- FIFTH BIRTHDAY
Where have the years gone?
My sister -
The most beautiful the kindest little girl on First Street Troy New York
Is sixty-five years old today-
Where have the years gone?
How can I ever thank her
For the devotion with which she cared for my parents
In those most difficult last years?
How can I ever say how much her being the only witness
Left with me of that world then
Means to me?
How can I say how happy I am for her
That she has raised with her husband
Four loving and caring daughters
That she made quite late in life
A name and career for herself?
Above all that she is still the good caring person
Who with her mother’s practicality
Makes the best of what life gives.
My prayer is for health and blessing for her
And her family
In the years ahead.
God gave me only one sister
Thank God it is Joycie.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Old Sadie At The Corner
Old Sadie at the corner feels bitterness towards men
She has been through four marriages her last husband was Ben
Her first husband was Andy followed by Jim and Joe
And she has not had an affair since Ben left years ago.
She never more will marry she says enough no more
I would not try for a fifth time I've had enough in four
To each of them she bore children she raised six kids in all
But of the men in her life few good memories to recall.
She says they all abused her but those who know her better say
That Sadie's not an angel and no small part she did play
In the break up of her marriages all of her ex husbands would agree
That Sadie is not the victim she makes herself out to be.
She never more will marry she was four times a wife
And now she feels contented for to lead a single life
And old Sadie she is destined to end her days on her own
For not even one man shows interest in her if the truth be known.
poem by Francis Duggan
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At Bay
Wife
Reach out your arms, and hold me close and fast.
Tell me there are no memories of your past
That mar this love of ours, so great, so vast.
Husband
Some truths are cheapened when too oft averred.
Does not the deed speak louder than the word?
(dear God, that old dream woke again and stirred.)
Wife
As you love me, you never loved before?
Though oft you say it, say it yet once more.
My heart is jealous of those days of yore.
Husband
Sweet wife, dear comrade, mother of my child,
My life is yours by memory undefiled.
(it stirs again, that passion brief and wild.)
Wife
You never knew a happier hour than this?
We two alone, our hearts surcharged with bliss,
Nor other kisses, sweet as my own kiss?
Husband
I was a thirsty field, long parched with drouth;
You were the warm rain, blowing from the south.
(But, ah, the crimson madness of her mouth!)
Wife
You would not, if you could, go down life’s track
For just one little moment and bring back
Some vanished rapture that you miss or lack?
Husband
I am content. You are my life, my all.
(One burning hour, but one, could I recall;
God, how men lie when driven to the wall!)
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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On Joe White's Ninetieth Birthday
So many he knew in his younger years to life have come and gone
But like the great man that he is Joe White keeps on keeping on
Ten years short of his century in his ninetieth year of life
I remember him and his daughter daughter Bibi and his now long deceased wife.
He and his wife and daughter went to live in America many decades ago
But they returned to Ballydaly to live amongst old friends they did know
He has done his share of travelling but the love of home is strong
And he is back in Tubber where he feels he does belong.
One of the elder citizens of the Parish of Millstreet
He is as nice a person as one could wish to meet
I have fond memories of him and of his ready smile
He is one of those nice people that I've not seen for some-while.
In the Wallis Arms in Millstreet Town for him a surprise party where a great night was had by all
And I bet at the happy gathering old times they did recall
Joe White has turned ninety and enjoying his lengthy life span
And it truly can be said of him that he is a gentleman.
poem by by unknown author
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Pretty woman
Pretty woman.
But wife is beautiful.
Pretty woman is hot.
But wife is the sexiest.
Pretty woman is just for sex.
But a wife is to make love.
Wife is a forbidden fruit.
To you and all.
and wife is more caring.
Be at home and by her husband.
and wife is the husband diamond.
And the husband love making love to her.
That no other women can.
Make him feel so good.
and her husband always in love.
With her.
And wife is the husband success.
Loving and warm full happiness.
She bears our children. And
She is the most gifted darling.
poem by See Fee Lee
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A Husband...
A husband should be
Loyal and honest
A husband should be
Strong and protective
A husband should be
Loving and romantic
A husband should be
Patient and understanding
A husband should know
When enough is enough
A husband should know
When to fight and when to cry
A husband should know
all your goals and dreams
A husband should know
your strengths and well as your weaknesses
A husband needs to be a true man
A husband needs to love you unconditionally
A husband needs to know your heart is forever his
poem by Sarah Holmes
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The Divorcee
She's been through a messy divorce case and single now she will remain
And she feels she's had it with marriage and she'll never marry again
She tried her best to save her marriage at least she gave it her best try
And from her past mistakes she has learnt like they say 'once bitten twice shy'.
She had seven years of married life and five of those years for her hell
And years from now she will remember yes she will remember too well
The beatings she received from her drunken husband as their two young children looked on
And they like their mother feel happy since out of their lives he has gone.
She married for love and love only but her feelings of love quickly soured
And years from now she will remember how beneath his cruel blows she cowered
Her children now ten and eleven feel happier without their dad
He often beat them and their mother and by him they were treated bad.
A woman in her early thirties she has only turned thirty two
And she vows she'll never re-marry that one marriage enough to go through
Her ex husband now is re-married and her sympathies are with his wife
And she hopes that he will treat her kindly and that he's learnt from his mistakes in life.
Her son and daughter soon to be teenagers are all that she worry about
That 'life isn't meant to be easy' at such a young age they found out
She raise them as a single mother and she works hard for them every day
Since her ex husband doesn't pay alimony or help them out in any way.
She vows that she'll die a divorcee and that she'll never marry again
And the sad memories of her broken marriage through her life time with her will remain
For she took the abuse and beatings when she was a callous
man's wife
Still she doesn't feel bitter towards him she merely gets on with her life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Suppose She Cannot Live By Trust
She married him for love alone he seemed a charming man
And she told her friends the World's greatest husband is my Stan
But love is blind or so they say which in her case is so true
And there is more far more to love than saying I love you.
He told her he loved her many times but words not hard to say
And after eight months of marriage he left her for some one new life often is that way
His little son who turned three in early February
He has not met and it would seem he has no desire to see.
With a married man she is having a clandestine affair
The husband of a friend of her's though with her one secret she will not share
That her husband with her is having his quiet bit on the side
By such secrets when they are leaked friendships have been destroyed.
What her ex husband has done to her to her friend she now do
Suppose she cannot live by trust if trust she never knew
Suppose she could find a single man to fulfil her sexual need
But she does not need one without ties for her that to love might lead.
And that to hurt again could lead by love she has been hurt before
And the burned child she dreads the fire she won't go back for more
She plays tennis with her lover's wife but to her she never say
Your husband he made love to me in my bedroom yesterday.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Bronwyn
A stern ageing woman is Bronwyn her dyed blond hair caged up in a bun
I can't say that i know her husband but life for him can't be much fun
For she is quite opinionated and she likes to have her own way
And no doubt in affairs of the household that she would have the final say
If her marriage ever does founder she won't find herself in demand
Since to others she is not respectful though respect for herself she command
But her husband is one worth admiring in an unequal partnership he has hung in there
For thirty years he has lived with a dominant woman men like him have always been rare
But then suppose not all males are macho as not all females are gentle and nice
And Bronwyn's husband he must give way to her or leave her is his other choice,
Bronwyn she is one in her mid fifties self confident and rather proud
The President of the ladies golf club she likes to stand out in the crowd
'Tis said she has her husband well trained he does not drink alcohol or tobacco smoke
For thirty years he has been loyal to her he must be a very nice bloke.
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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My Wife’s Second Husband
THE WORLD goes round, old fellow,
And still I’m in the swim,
While my wife’s second husband
Is growing old and grim.
I meet him in the city—
It all seems very tame—
He glances at me sometimes
As if I were to blame.
Oh, my wife’s second husband
Was handsome, young and true;
He had his boyish visions
(I had my visions too).
He made a model lover—
The greenest in the game—
They say, when I was married
That I was just the same.
Though I am ten years older
My hair is dark to-day,
While my wife’s second husband
Is quickly growing grey.
I drank when first he knew me,
And he drank not at all;
I see that he, through drinking,
Is going to the wall.
A sweet ill-treated woman,
A drunken brute (Good Lord!)—
Ah, well, she got her freedom,
And he got his reward.
He’ll fight it out a season,
For Fate will not be forced,
But my wife’s second husband
Shall surely be divorced.
I sympathize, and wonder
What mutual friends would think
If my wife’s second husband
And I should have a drink.
And I a mere bystander—
It almost seems absurd—
Might lay prophetically
My hand on my wife’s third.
But my wife’s second husband
His sorrows shall forget,
We’ll clasp warm hands in friendship
And clink our glasses yet.
We’ll smoke cigars together,
In pure philosophy,
While calmly contemplating
The fate of number three.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Happy Childhood Memories
Happy childhood memories the best memories of all
And my younger years in Millstreet I will always recall
On evenings in Summer up to the mid Fall
In the Townpark at the West End we played gaelic football
My friends of my youth where might they be today
Like me have the years left them balder and gray
Though some of them in the home Parish did stay
In life one might say we just went our own way
Since those days so many years have come and gone
And time does not wait it just ticks on and on
Many of the friends of my youth I may not see again
Though good memories of them with me does remain
And in fancy I chase the football up and down
With my happy young friends in the Park of the Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Happy Divorcee
Such a lovely person and so nice to know
By the smile on her face she has the inner glow
The windows of her soul are open to light
She is always so cheerful and bubbly and bright.
In her early fifties her brown hair flecked with gray
Perhaps physically she has known a far better day
To her horrible ex husband she was a good wife
And without him she lives a much happier life.
Her ex husband has re-married on her he used to cheat
And when drunk he was aggressive her he used to beat
He done his best for to lower her sense of self esteem
Life for her better without him much better 'twould seem
Their only daughter in her mid twenties is married in a town far away
Her young son will be three on his birthday in May
At Christmas her daughter and grandson she will see
And life is looking good for the happy divorcee.
poem by Francis Duggan
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