The Little Irish Mother
There's a little Irish mother
Lying in a sandy grave
And in the flow of memories
Is a sadness I can't stave
As a family we farewelled her Just short of Paddy's Day
And I journey there this time of year
A son's respect to pay
We came to this great country
From a land called Erin's Isle
With the displaced souls of Europe
Who'd tramped their tragic mile
I remember tears at Christmas time
And when the cables came
To tell them of a loved one
They would never see again
Our class was one great melting pot
For the cultures of this world
But we called ourselves Australian
As our nation's flag unfurled
And my mates were quick to realise
St Patrick was no fool
For when his feastday came around
We'd have a day off school
We'd all march down the town's main street
And every sport we'd play
As our priests recalled ,back at home
It was never quite that way
But now green beer and "plastic pubs"
Have become the standard fare
For today there's just the Irish
And "dems" that wish they were
I don my robes and as St Pat
I really play the part
But deep inside a sense of loss
Keeps gnawing at my heart
For when the last pint has been drained
And the crowd has ceased its' din
I think of that little grave site
And the one who sleeps within
La Fheile Padraig Sona Daoibh
TOMAS HAMILTON 27FEB10
