Patrice Day
Saint Patrice day
In 1957 my ship docked in the town of Cork (Ireland)
If you think that is a long time ago, you are probably right
but in my head, it was yesterday.
Life was slower back then, cargo was lowered into
donkey carts, there were many mules waiting
we went to a pub, a stone a throwaway and drank Guinness
Never did I tell my mother, but I told her of the Irish girl
I was going to marry had red hair and green eyes
she had the aroma of an angel.
Leisureliness has ended ships leave as ships do
On the shore, she waved, we cried, and people smiled
they didn’t know; no one had loved so deeply as us.
Our letter writing petered out, so many adventures for young
minds I met a girl in Amsterdam, she had a bike.
My mother asked about the Irish girl. Her name was Catlin.
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