Posted in Posts and podcasts

Those olden days – 1875

Wexford People 18th September, 1875 p.8

(abridged)
The youthful comrades whom we loved, can we forget then? Never!
The heartfelt pressure of each hand remains with us forever.
Though many a mile of sea and land since then our paths may sever.
Can we forget those olden days? No, comrades, never! Never!

Some east and west, some north and south have drifted o’er life’s ocean,
Yet looking back at those fond days each heart throbs with emotion;
Though we be sundered far for years, perhaps, indeed, for ever,
Can we forget those olden days? No, comrade, never, never!

Some gained the rugged hill of fame, while some are toiling lowly;
Their hearts, though withered up, are filled with aspirations holy,
Shall we look coldly down on those who failed in life’s endeavour?
I hear each friendly voice ring out, “No, comrades, never! Never!”

Then here, old comrade take my hand; we’ll drain a glass together.
We care not for the want of wealth, nor troubles heed a feather.
We pledge our comrades in this cup, and wish them joy for ever.
Can we forget those olden days? No, comrades, never! Never!
Artane

Posted in Posts and podcasts

If I were a billionaire – 1905

Supplement to the Cork Examiner 19th November, 1905

flower
Photo: EO’D

What should I do if the world were mine?
Mine with its treasures of silver and gold;
Lands untrodden and wealth untold;
What should I do if the world were mine?

Before the fire in my old arm-chair
I sit in silence and build alone
Castles fairer than castles of stone,
Castles built in enchanted air.

Friends so many and poor have I,
Friends so many and wants so few;
George, there would be a wife for you,
Whom all the world of wealth can’t buy.

A house I would build for you and Kate,
A house as never before was seen;
And I would dance at the wedding, I ween,
If I came into my worldy estate.

And you should be married to Mary, Jack!
Aye lad, with the cares of a weary man!
And from the hour when my power began,
Trust me, I’d never let you look back.

Husband hard working, and plucky wife,
Frank and Alice, ’tis little, indeed,
That love in a cottage as yours may need-
As you merrily sip the sweets of life.

But there should be store for a rainy day;
And never a battle dull care should win,
Or settle a guest your home within,
For peace at your hearth should dwell always.

And you, friend Tom, of them all the best,
Roughest of speech and softest of heart,
Whose kindliness poorly pays its part
In garb of wordly wisdom dressed.

For you nor plate, nor power, nor poll
Avails to turn one thought aside;
For you the world is not too wide
For you there is no such thing as self.

Together we two should go forth and seek
What haply our new-born power might do,
To succour the many and the few,
To curb the strong and defend the weak.

Dreams we together have dreamt ere now;
Dreams of a great and glorious name,
Plans to be sealed with the kiss of fame,
The parsley wreath for guerdon now.

So draw close up to the fire your chair,
And again let us dream of truth alone,
Castles that might be castles of stone,
If one of us were a Billionaire!

S.K, in Irish Monthly.