Poetry by Jeff Green



by cricketjeff on January 12, 2010.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

On a softly misted morning, when the mountains miss the sea,
You will hear our voices calling from the bars of Old Tralee;
For however far you travel you will always be a part,
Of the land of winds and whiskey that was planted in your heart.

Have you met a lass as lovely as O’Dooley’s Mary Kate,
Or the colleen you were kissing over Brian Dermot’s gate.
Are there golden-headed girlies who can treat you with a smile,
In the land across the ocean where you’ll hang your hat awhile?

Can you taste the golden sunshine in a steaming Irish stew,
And the spud and bacon coddle that was born a part of you,
Or a milky pint of Guinness with a whiskey by its side,
There’s a little bit of Ireland that can never be denied.

When you sleep beneath the heavens are the stars you see the same
As the velvet spread of diamonds filled with friends we tried to name?
Can the Moon still hold you spellbound when she’s almost waned away
And you’re walking through the meadow where the fairy people play?

You will come back home to Ireland when you’ve seen those other lands.
Walked through deserts filled with wonders that nobody understands,
Conquered mountains, swum in oceans, seen what we will never see,
In the green and rainy valleys round the town of Old Tralee.

Author notes

Tralee is an old Market town in South Western Ireland though I don’t think they call it “Old Tralee”. Carrauntoohil and the rest of MacGillycuddy’s reeks are nearby, and on a Summer morning when there is rain as soft as eiderdown falling through silver sunlight there are very few places more beautiful on Earth.