Me Ireland
My Husband’s family is from Ireland, and his family’s name is Scoles.
They say they have a city there… called Scoles Corner… We are told.
We don’t know about the city or why it was named just so…
Were they so very many, or named, as to let the good know, where not to go.
I think it was the numbers that lead directly to that famous name,
For they are truly a hardy bunch and I see in them lots of fun, not shame.
My family were Cohagens, and I suspect we often kissed the Blarney Stone.
For many a time, a few of my folk would disappear, as others came around.
The McDermotts were our friends, a solemn group for sure, I do tell you so.
Still the light of kindness glowed from them, I am sure that, you must know.
Still we’re all Americans now, in a country deeply seeded in Gaelic love.
For every one among us… has a small or large, touch of Gaelic blood.
As St. Paddy’s day comes near us, I’ll share and salute you with a green beer.
And if any go to Ireland, I’ll tell them… to kiss the Blarney stone, so dear.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment