The nun

The nun

There is the quiet courage of the nun

Who makes her troth with God 

Forsaking man and men

To be free in virginity.   

To walk the walk not just talk the talk

Within the convent grounds

To scale the doubts that assail the walls

Challenging sanity and loyalty.

No one hears at dead of the night 

The silent cries from heart and soul

That yearn for man and child

That every woman knows. 

Kneeling on cold stone

At the altar of her giving

Can she just picture now

A savior more forgiving?  

And yet and yet there is a joy

A compromise with nature 

A satisfaction so profound 

And sanctity surrounds her. 

The pale blue skies of Wexford 

The pale blue skies of Wexford


Oh give me the pale blue skies of Wexford.

The pleasant chill on a sunny spring day

When wisps of white cloud scurry over to France

And all is well in St. Helens Bay.

The air is clear and the ozone cleanses

Body and soul of city stress

Bronzed lobster men head out to sea

Bright fishing boats in blue and green.

A sacred corner, an ancient shore

The ruins stand a millennium old

Saint Vogue looked out in daily prayer

God in his mercy returned his stare.

The dog goes racing to the water

Excited, rushing breaking waves

The birds rise wheeling in an arch

Ahead of flying out to sea.

County of welcomes and the friendly wave

Hardworking and honest as the day is long

What did I do to deserve the good fortune

Of walking the lanes of Carne and Broadway?