With eyelids red and heavy from bending o’er the smold’ring peat, hill poet Mr Ger (Gerry) Cullen, armed with the stub of a pencil and the back of a discarded cigarette packet, shares his observations on Christmas.
Warning to Readers: Having read this poem twice, if you are not emotionally moved by the concord of its content, you may need to get in touch with us; with regard to searching out the help of a medical professional. (Note: Readers resident in the Bansha, Cappawhite and Glengoole areas of Tipperary need not apply at this time, since they have no GP services.).
“Darkest Hour”
(Latest poem courtesy of resident Tipperary bard, Mr Gerry Cullen. © )
When your ould lad drinks the ‘Double-Week’, then there’s nothing left for you
And you’d love to put his lights out, but there’s nothing you can do.
Just take your head and bury it, the world might disappear.
Text the boys and know right well they’re on for drinkin’ beer.Mr Ger Cullen with a baby fox, soon to be released back into the wild.
It’s the cause of all my sorrow and the start of all my pain
And there to ruin the good times, just as sure as Irish rain.
Stole away my childhood and ripped my world apart,
Yet it’s hard cold hands, my comfort in the darkest hour of dark.When your ould wan’s face is black and blue, ‘cos she slipped and fell again,
Or the door hangs off the hinges, ‘cos the ould lad kicked it in.
You’d never say on our estate that Christmas time is near,
There’s always tension, always rows and Christ, there’s always beer.It’s the cause of all my sorrow and the start of all my pain
And there to ruin the good times, just as sure as Irish rain.
Stole away my childhood and ripped my world apart,
Yet it’s hard cold hands, my comfort in the darkest hour of dark.When banging doors are constant, when fighting fills the air,
It breaks through walls and pillows, it finds you everywhere.
She scraped us through the birthdays, yet Christmas touched us all.
Our Santy’s name was Vincent, his helper’s name de Paul.It’s the cause of all my sorrow and the start of all my pain
And there to ruin the good times, just as sure as Irish rain.
Stole away my childhood and ripped my world apart,
Yet it’s hard cold hands, my comfort in the darkest hour of dark.
“Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (St. Matthew 25:40)
Speaking of that wonderful local organisation St. Vincent de Paul; local VDP member Mary Mac Donagh has asked us to point out that they are keen to support endeavours at making a small gesture, to help make Christmas 2015 more enjoyable for deserving children.
To this end those attending churches this week end, and next, are invited to place a new unwrapped toy in a collection box provided discreetly at the back of appointed churches. (Thanks Mary.)
Some suggestions if you need help in choosing your gift:
- Infants & Toddlers: Activity toys, pre-school toys, board books.
- 3-6 years: Soft toys, action toys, character toys such as Peppa Pig and SpongeBob SquarePants.
- 7-9 years: Board games, dressing up outfits, books, cars.
- 10-12 years: Books, jewellery, games, music, toiletries, DVD’s.
Now back to Mr Ger Cullen with a question; “Where is the book of poetry you promised?” We’re waiting!
I love the poem.