About you Mike I could write a book <br />If I was worthy to put you into words; <br />Yourself could put it better I believe: <br />Death has left us at a loss without you. <br /> <br />Going to fairs with seasoned farmers, <br />To them you were the old lad’s son, <br />But fully fledged you surprised them: <br />Dealers now bargained with a man. <br /> <br />You arrived on call when skill was all, <br />Weather fair or foul the job was done <br />And you freely gave of what you got- <br />A farmer who had loyalty to the land. <br /> <br />As time went on they’d take their turn, <br />Hard working men came hurrying in <br />To meadows when the hay was down <br />Or cattle testing time had come again. <br /> <br />Agile, red haired, in faded blue shirt: <br />Reins a bandoleer for him in Spring <br />Guiding plough horses by the furrow, <br />Seagulls following –a storm warning. <br /> <br />Sheep shearing time, greasy fleeces, <br />Bottled stout for neighbours helping; <br />Sharing, swearing, telling good ones, <br />Among friends feeling free and easy. <br /> <br />On a kitchen chair he’d kneel to pray <br />In the morning as in the old tradition; <br />After he’d herd the sheep and cattle <br />And then he tilled in fields till evening. <br /> <br />By night after earning his daily bread <br />He felt the need of some good libation <br />And on his high stool he so often said <br />‘I’m luckier than most’- in celebration. <br /> <br />Head of the clan, how I miss that man. <br />We had our nights in Lisdoonvarna; <br />Saved turf together on the mountain, <br />Mended the fence down by the river. <br /> <br />I write these lines for an absent brother <br />Buried on a hill up in Kilchreest village; <br />From here or from heaven overlooking <br />Forever the beloved land of our fathers.<br /><br />Matt Mooney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/head-of-the-clan/
