"ALL SOULS NIGHT"

T’was “All Souls Night in Limerick City long ago
When Franklin and myself, decided where we’d go
As Catholics, we would visit all the churches we could find
Say a prayer in all of them, for the souls we had in mind
As the evening passed to night, St. Mary’s our last Church
We said some extra prayers, leaving no one in the lurch

We walked on out to Corbally, from there we’d turn back home
Knowing we had done our bit, for the souls that were forlorn
Beyond ‘Dago O’Driscolls, so well famous for the jar
We stopped at Corbally Bridge, happy we had walked this far
The road back to town, was well lit at for all to see
But halfway over the bridge all lights ceased to be

Just then we heard a baby’s cry, from under the bridge it felt
We both jumped down the steps to offer the baby our help
The crying stopped, we looked around and silence met our ears
So back we climbed to the bridge, in each of us a little fear
I looked across the span, saw a man walking in alone
Franklin saw him too, just then the baby’s moan

We hit the steps again, running faster this time
The moaning stopped, so did we, then began our second climb
A look across the bridge, the man had left no trace
He didn’t pass; he didn’t go back, just disappeared in space
The moaning came and away we ran, all aglow with fright
With a memory, we have rarely told about our “All Souls Night

Michael Christopher Daly
Sept 10th, 2005

The Bully

I tried to show that I wasn’t scared
Though my knees were ready to give in
I took a stance that indicated strength
With hands ready and aimed at his chin
But his eyes, were locked on Mine
And I just couldn’t stare him back
I knew the trouble I was in
When he roared to begin his attack

How could I have gotten into this mess?
Now he is beginning to hiss
Maybe I could save the day
If I hug him and give him a kiss
My fear made me attack first
And he wasn’t ready for that
As I landed a punch on his nose
And he screamed like a stepped on cat

He looked up at me from the ground
His hands covering his face
The blood seeped through his fingers
As the crowd circled our space
He staggered a little, while getting up
Then stood on the tips of his toes
Took away his hands from his bloody face
Showing everyone his broken nose

A ghostly moan could be heard by all
As he sat back down on the ground
He cried aloud to the departing crowd
Who had more sympathy for a passing hound?
He was all alone as he passed me by
Going home to a fatherless home
I caught up to him and we talked a while
I didn’t want him to be all alone
We met many times after that day
The title “Bully”, was no longer his name
We got on with our lives, in different styles
I recalled this from my Memory Lane

Michael Christopher Daly
Nov.25th, 2007