Much The Same Everywhere

I felt lost in a world where the topics of the day
Were the prices of livestock and of grain and silage and hay
And of politics and hurling and Gaelic football
Some people their biggest worries does seem small

Where one who was cultured was looked on as odd
A strange one the child of  a far lesser god
From them and their ways apart i slowly grew
I must be quite odd since my friends are so few

The boy who is laughed at in primary school
Must live until he die with the tag of a fool
He has a chip on his shoulder some of him does say
Since he is one who does not think in their way

In a World where people are judged kindly for their material success
And those of little money does fail to impress
Society's judgmental they are not rare
Though of their judgmental ways they are not aware

Those i went to school with like me ageing today
And some of them where the deceased are does lay
Age comes to the human being like the sheep or the cow
And their material achievements scarce matter to them now

I grew up in a place where silage and hay
Was more often than not the topic of the day
Only for to find in the big World out there
That in rural places much the same everywhere.