On Winter nights in the old Country the wind did howl in the trees
In chilly and unpredictable weather of zero or under degrees
In the living room by the open fire grate the burning peat kept out the cold
We sat listening to the ageing story tellers relating their stories of old
In us they had a captive audience as they related their memories of the past
Just listening to their reminiscing the time seemed to tick on so fast
They told us stories of the Tan War the ambushes at Headford and Tureengarriffe Glen
The rebel fighters of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra amongst the bravest of fighting men
Their stories of old deserted haunted houses in our young minds did instil fear
Of night and dilapidated former homes of such places we would not venture near
I recall i often had nightmares of hearing glass breaking and of ghosts scream
And i would awake in a cold sweat quite relieved to realize it was only a dream
The chilly winds howled in the tall trees in weather cold enough to snow
But by the fire grate it was cosy the burning peat had a warm glow
We sat listening to the old fellows relating their stories of long ago
That they had heard from their childhood elders before time did become their foe.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
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