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A tribute to Tipperary’s senior hurlers, fresh from the pen of poet Mr Tom Ryan and dedicated to Liam Sheedy and our mighty Tipperary men, togged out in the blue and gold.
Tribute To Tipperary Senior Hurlers
Courtesy of Thurles Author & Poet Tom Ryan © “By Leeside you held our colours high
In gallant glorious fray against the Red
Scorned the pride of the ancient enemy,
Hurled with blood and muscle, heart and head.
Tipperary men by bold tradition brave,
No time for reputations or renown. Who for Tipperary and her homes engrave
A glory that is greater than a crown,
Cry the fainthearted, “Tipperary hurling dead”
No! tis alive with fiercely wondrous will.
Proud wear the blue and gold upon your head,
Tipperary men are hurling warriors still”. END
Tom Ryan, “Iona”, Rahealty, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.
“Little trotty wagtail, he waddled in the mud,
And left his little footmarks, trample where he would.
He waddled in the water-pudge, and waggle went his tail,
And chirrupt up his wings to dry upon the garden rail.”
Extract from the poem “Little Trotty Wagtail”, by John Clare
London’s Trafalgar Square is famous for its daytime congregation of Pigeons. Dublin city’s Parnell Square, according to Dublin City Council, is famous for its congregation of daytime, marauding, chip snatching seagulls. Here in rural Liberty Square, Thurles, Co. Tipperary; practically unnoticed by the frequenters of our pubs, clubs, and other nightly entertainment venues, we remain secretly renowned for our congregation of nightly, urban roosting Pied Wagtails.
 Hundreds of roosting Pied Wagtails congregate nightly all year round, unnoticed in Liberty Square, Thurles, Co. Tipperary. To the night reveller, they go mostly unnoticed, perched on the very summit of three mature trees on the ‘money side’ of Liberty Square, close to the entrance into Westgate and Friar Street. Best not to stand too long directly under these trees at night; lest your unprotected bag of chips, or expensive hair-do, should inevitable fall foul to occasional falling defecation.
Bearing various allocated rural names; like ‘Penny wagtail’, ‘Willy Wagtail’ and ‘Water Wagtail’, in truth no one actually knows why Wagtails wag their tails, however, especially during the cold winter months, and indeed right through the year here in Thurles, large numbers of these inoffensive, 18cm long birds, join together and roost communally in our town.
In Ireland pairs of pied wagtails will nest favouring holes in walls, gaps under roof tiles and similar spaces, and particularly enjoy the use of farmyard areas, where they will nest two or three times during the summer season.
Haters of cold weather and not great dawn singers, these birds are exclusively insectivorous and choose towns possibly because same are always a couple of degrees warmer. Undeterred by noisy traffic, bright moving lights and loud night revellers; these birds enjoy the security of roosting in flocks, after all several hundred pairs of eyes are better than two in the case of any possible danger.
Not a protected species here in Ireland; one wonders what will become of this Thurles Wagtail colony, should work eventually begin on the constantly delayed revitalisation of Liberty Square. Will Tipperary Co. Council continue in the practice of eradicating mature trees, as seen previously in Fethard village and other Tipperary areas, thus leaving them homeless?
We trust that Tipperary Co. Council has learnt by now that the life of another creature is in no way less precious than their own.
With St. Valentine’s Day 2019 just 6 days away, let’s read a few romantic lines from Thurles poet Mr Tom Ryan
Love Lines For St. Valentine’s Day
Courtesy of Thurles Author & Poet Tom Ryan ©
No more I seek sweet paradise
Or absolute truth and beauty rare;
I see my heaven in your eyes
And in the shining of your hair;
No more I seek in sonnet, song
Or music’s sweetest, deepest sound
That part of me so lost for long
Which in your being I have found.
No more I wander through the hours
Fearful, lonely, without cheer,
For you, oh fairest of the flowers,
Are here my love, sweet love, are here.
My every sense now wildly soars
To joy beyond this transient earth,
Sweet scented life, oh beauteous bower,
Oh, bright and light my happy heart.
I wish and you are always there
My light, my courage and my soul,
You are enchantment everywhere
You bless, embolden and enthral.
And so not death nor worldliness
Shall keep us two, now one, apart;
Oh, magical our happiness,
Eternal our united heart.
END
Tom Ryan, “Iona”, Rahealty, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.
In A Storm Steadfast.
Courtesy of Thurles Author & Poet Tom Ryan ©
There’s a house by the sea in my summers
Low the shoreline hugging and the rocks,
And one wild night in a storm I wondered
If the waves that lashed the rooftop then
Would engulf my friend therein.
Next day in his quiet and laughter,
Pipe in hand and glad happy
As the day is long,
He told salt tales of the battering waves
That lashed him all the years.
“Hit bad storms in Eighty Nine,
But little it mattered ever or then,
My mind it knows its peace,
And I sleep
Undisturbed by the wrath of the universe.”
END
Tom Ryan, “Iona”, Rahealty, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.
A Wish At Christmas
Courtesy of Thurles Author & Poet Tom Ryan ©
The crib at Christmas, the colourful tree,
The cards, the presents, decorations.
And from this silent sitting-room
Far away in bed and wonderland
I hear the young and happy voices
Calling to the magic of that young time.
I hear the rush of bare and tiny feet
Through the carpeted kitchen to the room
By Santa lately visited.
I see the children and their mother there,
An eternal tableaux in the toys,
Children in their holly heaven
Of awe and brightest innocence.
And through a not unhappy tear
I wish and wish a while
In warmth and Christmas wonder,
The miracle of the moment now to linger,
Transcending all beneath the Christmas Star,
And in my holly heart I wish
I wish, oh wish to holly heaven
That I could be Santa forever.
END
Tom Ryan, “Iona”, Rahealty, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.
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