Among the rocks near "Miley's"
We had our own "Wild West"
Tom Mix, Roy Rogers And Hop Along,
Were the heroes we love best.
With wooden guns and steady aim,
We hardly ever missed,
As we shot down all the outlaws,
Upon the " Wanted List".
Long, long ago ancestral lore was passed on orally;
The spark to light the Cultural Fire was lit in family
And local neighbours and the clan, all warmed to that same Flame
And so all came to act the same, all Keepers of the Flame.
A morning fair, o’erarched with skies of May,
Broke over files of men in stern array-
By wrongs made reckless – to avenge the flood –
The seething torrent of their tears and blood
By England’s hell-hounds shed. The sunbeams fell
For two hundred years its stood,
Among the Wicklow hills,
The source of people's hopes,
The cure for many ills.
It was built by Fr Blanchfield,
With faith and a hundred pound,
And it is fitting that there he rests,
Inside the church he…
‘Tis the dewy hour of sunrise
In the glorious month of May
And the heated mist presages
Summer’s splendour thro’ the day.
Muffled, stealthy in the silence
Sounds the noise of tramping feet:
Men whose sons are free come marching