Just Memories
I’m Irish and I’m a proud Irishman.
Oh, not for the usual sentiments.
The source of my pride runs deep. I can
Trace the direct line of my descendants.
My grandfather, the poor soul, came from Cork
With fifteen US dollars in his pants
And a big dream when he entered New York.
No large reception for this immigrant.
Just a sister who arrived earlier
In nineteen hundred through Ellis Island.
He met Mary Delea my Grandmother
Married and blessed it with a wedding band.
They had two girls, two boys, one was my dad.
They’re gone now, memories are all I have.
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