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Twenty Years in Glangevlin

Written by Tom Maguire (New York)

I was born in sweet Glangevlin

oh so many years ago
In a little three roomed thatched cottage
in the hills of Legnagrow

My father was a farmer
and my mother baked great bread
and when the church bell rang each day
the Angelus was said

We had no indoor plumbing
and when you got the call
you would run out to the field
and go behind the wall

The neighbours were quite helpful
They would never let you down
and when you needed good advice
they’d always come around

Pea McCauley, the cow doctor
He would cure a cow or calf
and Michael Young Cormick
the storyteller he would always make you laugh

John Pea Nancy cured the bacon
and put it in an old tea chest
and John Gill the local thatcher
he was one of the best

John Phill Terry a great singer
He could sing the football song
And Joe Mick Oiney set an engine right
when anything went wrong

We grew some spuds and vegetables
at the bottom of the hill
and when we needed red rosy apples
we’d go to see Frank Phill

Sunday was a day for church and little else was done
you would get up early in the morning around the break of dawn
you would shine your shoes and wash your face your best clothes you would put on
and with a brown sweet in your pocket
to first Mass you would run

An alter boy was hard to find since Father Frank was tough
and if there was an error he might slap them in the puss

The month of July was busy
and on the first sunny day
a call went out for Dimmy Rua
to cut a field of hay

He would spin around the meadow
and cut the corners too
You would hear him sing
“Green Grows The Lilacs” or “The Foggy Dew”

Old Glan hall was the place to go when you felt like having fun
with Frankie on accordion and Shannon on the drums
Fitzpatrick sang the songs we loved of Larry and Big Tom
and when they played the Siege of Ennis you would think the roof would come down

Now time and Tiger changed things
they will never be the same
no more crickets singing on the hob
the old crane crook is gone
No more flag floor or red half door
or bare feet in the rain
now that’s my little story of my twenty years in Glan

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