They roamed the roads of Ireland in horse drawn caravan <br />And I envied them their freedom the carefree wandering clan <br />Their favourite horses Pinto in colours white and brown <br />And two weeks at most their longest stay in any country town <br /> <br />I often sat by their campfire as a primary school going boy <br />The sparks from the burning timbers flew upwards in the sky <br />From the old fellow's squeeze box sweet music it did ring <br />And I watched on in wonder as the travellers did dance and sing. <br /> <br />Their ancestors tenant farmers that Cromwell put on the road <br />And left them to the wandering life of the no fixed abode <br />They became expert tinsmiths and they sold their tin pots and cans <br />And they drove around the countryside in their horse drawn caravans. <br /> <br />Though their nomadic lifestyles others could not understand <br />They were such gifted people the most gifted in Ireland <br />They had the gifts of happiness and of music, dance and song <br />And to a dispossessed race their ancestors belong. <br /> <br />The mid to late fifties in Ireland brought with them such great change <br />And to see them driving motor vans to say the least seemed strange <br />And something lost forever and I longed for what had been <br />And their Pinto horse drawn gipsy caravans no longer to be seen. <br /> <br />And though something's lost forever the memories with me remain <br />And I fancy I am sitting by their warm camp fire again <br />And from the old bloke's squeeze box such pleasant music ring <br />And I watch on in wonder as the travellers dance and sing.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/something-lost-forever/
