Best Foley Poems
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Tom sat fer-nent the table within a smoker's chair
A table pot of pra-tes and bacon quivers there
The cook an apron dirty wipes the grease and clears her throat
She cooks her husband dinner the children's and the goat's
He smokes his pipe asunder and prods and pokes its shoot
Burnt black his index finger tobacco by the root
Dear wife is it not ready for the pit I have to trot
the horse will soon be ready the timber and the shot
Dear man move to the table the butter there just melt
The pra-tes are King Edwards and tighten up your belt
Tis hot and floury flavour the bacon salty rich
Some milk would be a cooling or you will have a stitch
Dear child come home from school now those shoes a wearing bare
You scholar and a brother of fiddle and of flare
Before you have your pra-tes put turf upon the light
Where's dear dear sister Nancy be home before the night
And Annie did you eat yet asked he a million times
Not yet the lady calls out but yet she never dines
The kettle purring steadily in black and iron cast
A crook a blackened lever and tea for all at last
Hurry up now dear dear Annie the night shift I must go
Some bread some bacon sandwich the night for money sow
The sound of carts a coming and following the man
Oats and horse a chopping the collars and the ham
Goodbye now Cook and ready now depart and bid fair due
My jacket wet and dripping, tonight and on the crew
Carts a pulling coal blast the horses strain and tear
A fire man's instruction and all are quite aware
Black sandwich square the dusty air take soda made with fruit
I hope one day I'll get away and always wear a suit
The night is done and Annie come to greet me on the mat
Without you dear I'd not be here my life my joy my cap
(1940s- West of Ireland)
Ian foley- for the :Middle Of The Road Contest
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James Foley a rebelious man within his clan
Lends a hand to his neighbour's eviction and land
Decided in a church yard chat of alarm
A process served on a man is evil and darned
Evicted from thatch is fearful in that there is no where to go
They band in the mist on a boheen grass strip await the post man's right hand
The process appears the postman he nears he waits then bowls near the crowd
He fronts the large gang of vagabond brand his letter is blocked y their stand
The post bag is ripped from shoulder and quiped you go and leave this place now
The contents ransacked and process burnt black not delivered for court or for hand
Constables came one hour remains a battering ram then deployed
All scurry on out in fear from a shout leave tears in their door way a jammed
Jail of six months in Limerick they shunt assizes demand of their mane
Their women folk fear the crops needed dear the neighbours gather around in a feat
A cheer and a fire admired by a shire propaganda and telegraph sent
Fair play to those wives revolution aside that church yard endeavoured to dream
My G/Grandfather's act i 1908
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We waited quietly as the sirens calmed and quenched their searing drone.
The air raid shelter hushed in baited breath. One second more. Maybe the end is nigh.
All a quiet beneath an unseen sky. Maybe her child wont cry.
Maybe I wont every see those shower room white tiles staring back at me again.
Tiles arched over us. Over our laments and muffled cries.
Our house our street. Will it be there.
Or will it be there but emptied by scounderels a plenty.
Stay close child and use my heat. This ticket office door pushes drafts beneath it.
Drafts into my ears her ears. Woolen socks pulled up as high as they can allow.
One second more again the droning and I cover her ears my child don't listen.
Screaming Shrills and thuds again.Move away you bombs elsewhere.
To East ham or anywhere. And you you acursaid man. I do not know you.
I fear your motives.If only my fire tending husband could defend me now.
Go down the platform now sir.We are bedded here and intend to stay till bombs end.
This is our platform. Huddle close child the night is long and the platform grey and cold.
Later it ends.Too soon to move.The parrafin stove simmers a kindly brew.
God above tea at last.Tea has saved the night and brought the dawn raids end.
For I know this that a war will be won and won with tea and no credit shall tea be given.
The moving masses alight from their drab and coated stage. Queitly and slowly maybe
reluctantly ascending to the London sky.Delaying the vacant and unknown future.
London Tube station shelter in 1940- Ian Foley
A West Saxon King of Wessex and grace
He dealt with the Danes a convincing deface
Father of Navy and military blow
A legalised system the people should Know
Nation divided the Danes bowed to truce
Example in history for Robert the Bruce
Before this great stand 870 anon
He fought with the Danes 9 battles not one
Three elder of brothers fought till they died
Their wounds from the battle for Alfred did cry
During the wars in the marshes and mist
Alfred did hide and men did enlist
Athelney Marsh the bravest remained
A muiscal lyre for Danes he refrained
Marching and planning the lady of lakes
Thought and great planning he burnt all her cakes
Beaten by besom for burning the grate
She fell to her knees in humble prostrate
Stumbling on but lost on the Heath
Broach of gold lace that Alfred had sheathed
The Danes flag of battle broken and torn
A truce with old Guthrum eventually born
All is at rest for subjects now prove
Schooling begins and the hunger removes
His wife Ethelwulf with Nation at peace
Religion and taxes Westminister keeps
The Navy rebuilt and challenge at sea
Alfred for saint now rumoured by me
Ian Foley
Little Jenny was always found to be very prim and proper/
Outside reading her cook book by Betty Crocker/
Lazy Mary Sat on the lazy suzanne,
Butch Malone was their next of kin kissing cousin,
Along with Mary this made up the famed dirty dozen !
That sand box experiment really made us laugh/
Shortly after gym class,
Butch Malone along with the famed Benjamin Bankhead/
Jimmy Foley the local guitar player knew,
The pathway in life that we should choose/
Often he would be found taking a tremendous dump in the boy's urenil !
The path of least resistance sought about from a chosen few,
Often he would appear in shepherds clothing similar to little boy blue !
Playing guitar like he's going out of style !
That sandbox experience was designed to distract all the teacher's ?
We set up stuffed dummies just to look like real people,
Right underneath the bleacher's !
Old man Winter's who worked for Mr. Kazoo knew the score/
Very often he was being seen outside the local liqour store,
Lest I emplore,
The sand box experiment was in full swing on that one particuler day/
Butch Malone thought he was the real king ?
That was until Mrs. Maloney saw him through the window !
Next the time was drawing near/
Then so was that dinner bell,
Mrs. Maloney started talking to all those dummies,
Next thing you know she had tripped over little Johnny !
He was stuffed that was/
Flying three feet high in the air she had fell right on her face !
What a social disgrace !
Yet what had happened to Butch Malone ?
Like a little dog without his bone/
He pee pee'd his pants then cried all the way home !
The next day when Mrs. Maloney got her second wind/
She didn't even know where to begin/
For that little stunt the whole class was suspended for the day,
Yet for the gang including Butch Malone what did they say ?
All in all the sandbox experiment really did make their day !
I dreamt that my uncle sat next to my father in a field.
They sat upon a concrete slab. I think a septic tank.
Their coats beside them and a guinness bottle in the uncle's hand. They had been
saving the hay.My uncle was also looking across the open road and could see a river
and he was wearing a no sleeved jumper. 'De jar vous' hit me in real life.
(I actually saw this complete scene thereafter including guiness bottle in reality).
Another time I dreamt I fell out of our bed and became sandwiched between the bed and
a wardrobe. I struggled with my elbows to raise myself up.Then, I suddenly had a torch in my
hand and shon it through the pitch black ahead. A torch in the distance switched itself on in mid
air and shon directly back into the light of my torch.-
(I then woke up ) !
I heard a story from my Mother who at 10 years of age was saving hay with her mother in 1941.(People in Ireland then lived far a part in terms of walking and all were farming).Both were alone in the huge expanse of the field forking hay. Then in the ditch a cry came out and
frightened my mother. A whaling type of cry she said. Banshee, who knows!
However, My grandmother clutched her close and immediately said to her 'John Flynn' has died and we better go up to me house. Grandmother knew well a distant od neighbour was ill and had been for days and may die. After a long trek through the fields to the house and after one or two hours a knock came to the door. Another neighbour called and said that indeed this man had died. She never said she got notice of this to the neighbour from the ditch and thanked the caller.
(How could such a thing be treated in such a matter of fact way by my grandmother)?
Ian Foley
From a small town in Georgia,
a place called Livonia,
came "Little Miss Dynamite".
A diminutive delight,
and a success overnight,
at only twelve years of age,
she was a musical rage.
She was Brenda Mae Tarpley.
Early popularity,
gaining notoriety
from the Ozark Jubilee,
she was found by Red Foley.
A young teenage prodigy,
her producer Owen Bradley
changed her name to Brenda Lee.
Before the age of twenty,
success came so easily.
"Sweet Nothin's" and "I'm Sorry",
with "Break It To Me Gently",
were big hits for Brenda Lee.
Big with both pop and country,
she won the hearts of many.
Author's Comments:
"I was able to obtain the valuable information in writing this poem from a small booklet included in Brenda Lee's CD collection "The Best of Brenda Lee-The Millenium Collection, available on MCA records."
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Burly Farley Foley bought a field at Brawley,
On Southern California's sunny soil.
There, farmer Farley Foley grew a crop of barley,
And bought a boiler just to make the barley boil.
Here's the kid that took a **** in the urinel
they picked on him and threw his books down in the hallway
used to eat from the empty tray lunches
gave him rides home from school
kids told me I wasn't cool
yet who are they anyway
folks said he went off in the Army
many years would pass having every reason to grasp
where has he been
then I was a security guard
in a mentally insane facility
I heard his name over the loud speaker
now he was locked up for all eternity
the great Jimmy Foley
the talk of the town
a challenge to be free is a question of time
Place Called Bolivia
This to me is a certain type of trivia
Which I believe would describe Bolivia
Perfect place where people want to go
To see its beauty and watch garden grow.
Looked at Lockwood Foley freely run
And a long time ago it was once upon
Son did die before we moved there
That for us really was so hard to bare.
We do live here and love it now
With God's grace will get by somehow
Enjoy newness nature to us has given
In Bolivia, where we both are living.
Fine fragrant flowers and frequent birds
Sing soft songs not having any words
Many marked with a marvelous melody
By mocking bird sitting in a tall tree.
Found myself living here loving it forever
And want to leave it, no, would not ever
Prepared a pleasant prayer to say today
Will love Bolivia best when I'm not away.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Bolivia, NC.
we've gathered here today oh Lord in Manhattan's Foley Square
trusting and believing that for us You'll always be there
we thank You for the blessings and all that you have done
in our struggle for equality we now count the battle won
we've gathered here today oh Lord to stand up for righteousness
knowing that You won't allow us to settle for anything less
together the two companies
Allied Barton and FJC
we've gathered here today of Lord to give You all the glory and all the praise
a united nation of security officers and our hands to You we raise
the journey has been long but the end is now in sight
we are now members of 32BJ and together we stand and fight
just keep us on Your mind oh Lord and keep us in your heart
we say this prayer today oh Lord in the name of Jesus the Lord our God
What brings light,
What brings dark,
Secrets will unfold,
I come not by numbers.
I come not by name ,
I am the un-holy one , I come to stake my claim,
Watch what you wish for ,
I can seal the deal,
All that you ask for soon will be real,
I come not by numbers,
I come not by name.
I am the un-holy one , and I will take no blame.
I'll not warn you thrice ,
but , burn you twice,
For I come not by numbers when you call my name.
Your such a crook.
You wrote the book.
One look was all it took.
Staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.
Knew then it was time to run.
Been under your spell for almost a year.
Thought love was a trip 'til the day I fell.
How this all happened is anyones guess.
My life's been turned into a wonderful mess.
When our eyes meet, my heart triples its beat.
Already told you how I feel.
Whats the deal, can't you see I'm for real?
Come what may, its impossible to say.
Thinking about you each and everyday.
Caught the bug, its one hell of an addictive drug.
My hearts rhythm is true, don't go making me blue.
What else is there to say except, I love you.
Come on take a risk, why not give me a chance?
On the road to romance, grab my hand and lets dance.
Give it time and you will see.
The two of us are surely meant to be.
Theresa Lynn (Foley)
9-11-2009
Not meant For me:
Go ahead and break my heart.
Rip and tear my world apart.
Shatter all my hopes and dreams.
While your at it why not shoot down all my crazy schemes.
Stomp and kick me when i'm down.
In your eyes i'm just a clown.
Put me down and make me cry, does it make you feel good inside?
Is this what I deserve? I wonder why?
Done with all this hurt and pain, thought you were the one oh what a shame.
Tired with all your words of abuse.
I would run away but whats the use.
Please just stay away from me.
I won't take this no more, can't you see?
I'm only warning you once, now leave me be.
The time has come to set me free.
Its plain to see your not meant for me.
Theresa Lynn (Foley)