En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Willie Neenan Is Still Running

Willie Neenan is still running as running to him is as much a part of his life
As the lives of his athletic daughters and of Marie his good wife
An Irish champion in his seventies and an Irish champion in his prime
No doubt Millstreet's greatest athlete he's proved that time after time.

Willie Neenan is still running to me that comes as no surprise
He runs in sunny weather and when the rain pours from the skies
He has run in the depths of Winter in the frost and in the snow
Willie Neenan was a champion more than fifty years ago.

He won a World silver medal for Ireland at the Master's Games in San Juan in eighty three
Losing out on gold by the narrowest of margins in his surge for victory
The Pipers band came out to play for him in Millstreet his Hometown
He had proved himself against the World's best cannot keep a good one down.

Willie Neenan is still running his great victories we recall
Of Millstreet's many famous athletes the most famous of them all
He was an Irish champion when I was a schoolboy
And he will go on running until the day he die.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Willie Boy

Willie Neenan from Millstreet
What a marvellous athlete
Twenty years in time have gone
Since he won a world silver medal in San Juan.

Munster and All Ireland's by the score
And other medals many more
Willie Boy was always best
Neenan first forget the rest.

Seventy years and still going great
And still a name to celebrate
More than two tousand races won
By Willie Neenan number 1.

What was he like in his prime
And that's going back a long, long time
He was something special then
And he outpaced the fastest men.

He's not one for self conceit
And he doesn't boast he just compete
Never ever heard him brag
Willie Boy is no windbag.

He'll remember eighty three
What a pleasant memory
Ireland's best and Millstreet's pride
With the World's best matched stride for stride.

And with that his greatest success far away
Some say he should have called it a day
But has he reached retirement stage
when he still beats fellows half his age?

Running he will never stop
And he'll keep running till he drop
And he'll retire that's when he die
The one and only Willie Boy.

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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William Leary

William Leary is one of the famed Learys of Millstreet a Cork and Duhallow legend of the Gaelic Football game
He played football for Cork and his Club Millstreet and is now in the Duhallow sporting Hall of Fame
He once scored two goals in a Munster Final in Killarney a feat that is still talked of today
In his Gaelic Football career a remembered highlight though many great games the great one did play.

William Leary in his prime a dashing forward one of the great footballers of Millstreet
He proved a headache for opposing defenders with his ball skills he was so quick on his feet
And off of the field of play a successful business person beyond Millstreet known and liked far and wide
To his family and his many friends around Duhallow his many achievements are a sense of pride.

William Leary is now in his early seventies it has been some time since he has played football
One of the great Gaelic Footballers of Millstreet as those who watched him play can well recall
It has been four decades and a few years and that is looking back in time
When he cheered Millstreet hearts with his marvellous ball skills he was a speedy fellow in his prime.

Good to see him with his wife and family on the Millstreet web site on his induction into Duhallow's Hall of Fame
With honour he wore the Cork and Millstreet Jerseys and with honour he carries the famous Leary name
I watched him play when i was a young fellow and that is going back many years ago
He was a dashing forward in his prime years the one who left speedy defenders looking slow.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Black July

The fastest dog in Millstreet when I was a young boy
Was owned and bred by Maurice Connors his name was Black July
Trained by Paddy O Keeffe at Dooneen a leading trainer then
In the Kennedy cup at Limerick he had a famous win.

A son of Cheeky Tippy and Maddest Lily the striking black and white
Was Ireland's fastest greyhound when he was in full flight
The Irish Derby favourite he was the one to beat
And one of the fastest greyhounds to come out of Millstreet.

Sold to Harry O Neill the bookmaker the word it got around
For a record price for a greyhound then 'twas said two thousand pounds
And Black July for Maurice Connors had surely paid his way
For two thousand pounds in those times worth thirty grand today.

Since Denny Dennehy and John Joe Cronin's hounds brought to their Paish fame
Duhallow home of champion dogs so many one could name
And Black July a top class dog when he was in his prime
The mighty speedster from Liscreagh inspired the bards to rhyme.

It must be nearly forty years how quick the time did fly
Since Millstreet had a champion dog his name was Black July
And Millstreet had many great dogs since of their big wins we hear
And the latest Donie Mahony's champ the great Mountleader Peer.

Trained at Dooneen by Paddy O Keeffe a leading trainer then
In the Kennedy cup at Limerick he had a famous win
The fastest greyhound of his year when I was just a boy
Was owned and bred at Liscreagh the mighty Black July.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Running Men

A running man he was,
that was the thing he was born to do,
th champion never quits and he never was,
back in the old days,
he was...but something change him,
A will from his mother,
A will that will tear him apart,
A will that will make his heart cries in pain,
if he did not follow.

As rhe time goes by,
he change little by little,
he had change to someone tremendously impressive,
A champion he was,
A great changes i think,
succeed to do something that non ordanary people can do,
to become a running man.

A running man he was,
but he did not run from his problem,
he never was,
he know not give up,
those word never exist in his life though,
although he had a rough time back then.

A running man,
someone that i would like to be and wish to be,
someday...
the preseverance will guide me,
to bring out the best in me,
To strive what i should get in life.

poem by Amir Naseem
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Mick Cashman

In the Cork County Senior Football Championship Final of 1957 I still recall the day
The last time I see Mick Cashman for his home club Millstreet Play
At the Cork Athletic grounds that day the Duhallow men were beat
The City Club St Finbarrs proved too good for Millstreet.

The Barrs fans celebrated the victory was sweet
But Mick Cashman played a great game he was gallant in defeat
In the biggest day in Cork County for the game of Gaelic Football
And though Millstreet lost to go that far they did well overall.

Mick Cashman was ordained a priest and for New Zealand he was bound
Far from Millstreet in Duhallow and Tullig his home ground
In the green and gold of Millstreet he was never seen again
But what was a loss to Ireland was surely New Zealand's gain.

Mick Cashman was a gentleman and of him 'twould be fair to say
That to help out other people he went out of his way
A Parish Priest in New Zealand where he was known far and wide
And his success in his adopted Country to Millstreet a sense of pride.

He is buried in New Zealand far south and far away
From Tullig above Millstreet Town where he first saw light of day
Last saw him in a Cork County Final for Millstreet playing Gaelic Football
A good memory till my own end that I surely will recall.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Mountleader Rolf

On June the eight in the year 03 the champion blue brindled greyhound from Millstreet Town
Mountleader Rolf owned by Daniel and Geraldine O Mahony raced his way into renown
By winning the St Ledger Classic for his proud owners a great night
The son of Smooth Rumble and Mountleader Diva had his backers cheering loudly in delight.

Another champion greyhound from Millstreet had the St Ledger Final crowd
Cheering loudly at the trophy presentation and his owners happy and so proud
Were the toast of the night at Limerick and their track record holder at the track
Proved for his top class opposition far too tough a nut to crack.

But three months later in a final at Youghal his connections were out of luck
When their champion dog from Millstreet by tragedy was struck
He had to be put to sleep after taking a very heavy fall
Perhaps for the Mahonys in their many years of breeding and racing greyhounds their saddest night of all.

At the Limerick Track on St Ledger night he had proved himself a canine great
But the legendary dog known as Mountleader Rolf met with a tragic fate
In a big final at Youghal Track when he took a heavy fall
But he had his night of glory and greyhound racing fans him will recall.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Cormac Dinneen

They wanted him in Kerry to play with their football team
But Cormac he loved Millstreet and he wore their famous green
And he too wore the red Cork jersey with passion and with pride
A legend in his playing days and he was known far and wide.

I watched him play as a veteran when he was past his prime
Way back in the late fifties some forty years in time
Against one ten years younger he more than held his own
A marvellous defender then one of the finest known.

The Millstreet fans they loved him a player they did revere
He never shirked a challenge a stranger to all fear
He never was found wanting when he was put to the test
And in the Cork County colours he played against the best.

When Millstreet's elder gaelic football fans talk of the Millstreet greats they've seen
A player they always mention is the great Cormac Dinneen
To them he was one of Millstreet's best and they still heap upon him praise
For he was one of their heroes in Millstreet's glory days.

And though time catch up on everyone and the years have made him slow
He was a Cork and Millstreet great some fity years ago
And in forty eight when Millstreet won the County he lived up to his name
As one of Ireland's best defenders then in the Gaelic football game.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Running...

Running4Christ.
Running to race.
Running to live.
Running to stay fit.
Running to find myself.
Running to save lives.
Running to heaven.
Running for Christ.
Running for faith.
Running for Love.
Running for God.
Running for Life.
Running for Records
Running for Russia.
Running Till The End..

poem by Joseph Fuller
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I'm Running Out Of Time

I'm running out of time
I'm as low as i can get.
I'm running out of time
No-ones noticed yet!

I'm running out of time
To face my fears and lies.
I'm running out of time
To say all my goodbyes.

I'm running out of time
To tell him how i feel.
I'm running out of time
This love, it makes me ill.

I'm running out of time
To achieve something in my life.
I'm running out of time
To be a mother or a wife.

I'm running out of time
I cant trust anymore.
I'm running out of time
I'm now running out the door! ! !

poem by Katy Allen
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I'm running out of time

I'm running out of time
I'm as low as i can get.
I'm running out of time
No-ones noticed yet!

I'm running out of time
To face my fears and lies.
I'm running out of time
To say all my goodbyes.

I'm running out of time
To tell him how i feel.
I'm running out of time
This love, it makes me ill.

I'm running out of time
To achieve something in my life.
I'm running out of time
To be a mother or a wife.

I'm running out of time
I cant trust anymore.
I'm running out of time
I'm now running out the door! ! !

poem by Stephanie Byrne
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Dan Leary

Dan Leary hard man of Millstreet Gaelic Football
He was a fearless fellow on his day
He took and gave some hard bone crunching tackles
And from a challenge never backed away.

Dan Leary was a hero of my childhood
And a hero in the Millstreet green and gold
And about his bravery on the Gaelic playing fields
Some quite amazing stories have been told.

I often saw Dan Leary play for Millstreet
In summer when the roses were in bloom
Against the better club teams in Cork County
In venues such as Coachford and Macroom.

When Millstreet were a force in Gaelic football
On looking back that seems so long ago
The heroes of my childhood years are ageing
And father time has left them gray and slow.

Dan Leary's sprightly younger brother Willie
A Gaelic footballer one never could forget
Twice in a Munster final in Killarney
Rasping shots from his boot bulged the Kerry net.

Long years ago when I was a young fellow
Four decades back and that's a lengthy span
Dan Leary played at corner back for Millstreet
And in his prime he was a fearless man.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Time For Tea

Scouring through the wasteland
With an uge to take
Anything that comes into view
Only ten more puffs to tea time
Ive found eating so time consuming
Willie, oh willie she cried
Its time for tea
Willie, where in hell has he gone
Its time for tea
South of the wateland at your d.i.y.
The inconsiderate rings his till
Offering plans of easy credit
Claims hell cause a killing in the school half term
Willie, oh willie she cried
Its time for tea
Willie, where in hell has he gone
Its time for tea
And welly well well well what have I found here
A hiding place made by frigid air
I think Ill try it on and give my mates a scare
Theyll all be searching neither here nor there
Willie, oh willie she cried
Its time for tea
Willie, where in hell has he gone
Its time for tea
Long depress of autumn breeze
Sucking on a rubber back teeth
Plays into the hands of the hardware man
Who selfishly I dont care

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Willie & The Hand Jive

Way back when in fifty eight
We had a move that move was great
We could walk and stroll and susie q
We could do that crazy hand jive too
Remember a cat called way out willie
A cool cat called rockin billy
Mama said to willie youll ruin my home
And you and that hand jive have got to go
cos he was hand jivin he was hand jivin
He would hand jive day and night hand jive
Willie had a girl called jivin jilly
Inhibitions she didnt have any
Willie would stop jilly kept cryin
To let him do that hand jive one more time
They were hand jivin they were hand jivin
They would hand jive day and night
Hand jive day and night
Willie and jilly got married one fall
They had a little willie junior and thats not all
Little willie got famous and its plain to see
That he did that hand jive on tv
They were hand jivin they were hand jivin
They would hand jive day and night hand jive
Always hand jivin yeah hand jivin
We would hand jive day and night hand jive
I can remember about fifty four
Rocknroll was at my door
Fifty five and elvis was king
Rocknroll was everything
Fifty six fifty seven rocknroll carried me to heaven
And looking in on fifty eight
They opened up that pearly gate
We could rock we could roll
Everyone could do the stroll
Dancin just to stay alive
We all did the crazy hand jive

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The World Is Running Down

Turn on my V.C.R.
Same one I've had for years
James Brown on the T. A. M. I. show
Same tape I've had for years
I sit in my old car
Same one I've had for years
Old battery's running down
It ran for years and years
Turn on the radio
The static hurts my ears
Tell me where would I go
I ain't been out in years
Turn on the stereo
It's played for years and years
An Otis Redding song
It's all I own
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
Plug in my M.C.I
To exercise my brain
Make records on my own
Can't go out in the rain
Pick up the telephone
I've listened here for years
No one to talk to me
I've listened here for years
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When I feel lonely here
Don't waste my time with tears
I run 'Deep Throat' again
It ran for years and years
Don't like the food I eat
The cans are running out
Same food for years and years
I hate the food I eat
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around

song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh I Must Go Home To Millstreet

The singing birds of Millstreet are calling, calling me
In my dreams I hear them whistling far beyond the deep wide sea
The green, green wood by Clara hill is always on my mind
On the day that I left Millstreet I left my heart behind.

Buttercups bloomed by the grass fringed rills and larks piped in the skies
As I said goodbye to Clara hill with teardrops in my eyes
The blue bluebells were blooming along the green bohreens
On the day that I bade farewell to Millstreet and her meadows and her streams.

The farmers mow the lush green meads that surround Millstreet Town
As the heathery face of Clara on them lovingly looks down
The shlaun men shlaun the shiny dark peat and the pikes are on the sway
In Gneeves bog outside of Millstreet on this bright Summer's day.

Oh I must go back to Ireland to the Land where I was born
Just to hear again the birds sing on a Spring like April morn
Oh I must go home to Millstreet for 'tis there I'd love to die
And be buried under Millstreet earth beneath an Irish sky.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Come Running

By the side of the tracks where the train goes by
The wind and the rain will catch you, you will sigh
Deep in your heart
Then youll come a-running to me
Youll come a-running to me
Well you watch the train go round the bend
Play in dust and dream that it will never end
Deep in your heart
Youll come a-running to me
Youll come a-running to me
Said, hey, come a-running to me
Oh, come a-running to me
Hey, yeah, come a-running to me
Said, hey, come a-running to me
Oh, come a-running to me
Hey, yeah, come a-running to me
With your hound dog by your side
And your arms stretched out open wide
I wanna keep you satisfied in the morning sun
By my side, come on, come on run
And you kick the sand up with your heels
You think to yourself how good it feels
Put away all your walking shoes
Then you come running to me
Now you come running to me
I said, hey, come a-running to me
Oh, come a-running to me
Hey, yeah, come a-running to me
You gotta rainbow if you run to me

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im Running Out

im running out things to say
[im running out of lies]
im running out trust
[im running out of spies]
im running out of love
[im running out of hopes]
im running out of dreams
[im running out of silent screams]

im starting to get tired of running toward you
so i guess ill just start running away

poem by Becca Hansen
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Running On Empty

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields
In sixty-five I was seventeen and running up one-o-one
I dont know where Im running now, Im just running on
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But Im running behind
Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive
Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive
In sixty-nine I was twenty-one and I called the road my own
I dont know when that road turned onto the road Im on
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But Im running behind
Everyone I know, everywhere I go
People need some reason to believe
I dont know about anyone but me
If it takes all night, thatll be all right
If I can get you to smile before I leave
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I dont know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But Im running behind
Honey you really tempt me
You know the way you look so kind
Id love to stick around but Im running behind
You know I dont even know what Im hoping to find
Running into the sun but Im running behind

song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm running but to where?

Running, running
There is nothing lef to do.
Running...
Away from my tears
Away from my pen
Running to know who I,
am.

Running
But you, don't know what,
You're,
Running from.
Running in circles
Going nowhere.
I'm saying Goodbye
I am runnning away.

Never stop runnning
Words running throught,
My mind.
Running away,
Like the coward,
Like him
Horrible words
I am running and runnning,
For you.

I m running but to where?
I can't believe
That I've put up with you lies.
Im running from the past..
Running out the pain.
Running with out you.

poem by Maria Luisa Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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