Friday, 22 July 2011


At last I've reached retirement age,
My working days are done,
But I am still quite young at heart
Not to miss out on fun.

The boys are educated now
And that is a relief,
If only they would hurry up
And find themselves a wife.

Stephen is a solicitor,
Mark, an aspiring judge,
Now maybe Frank and I will get
Our home in quaint Banbridge.

Perhaps we'll get to travelling
That surely is no sin
I'll go back to those Turkish Baths
With Kitty, Frank and Jim.

So no more on the night shift,
That really was a curse,
But on the whole I think I've been
A pretty good nightnurse.

So now that I'm retiring, I'll
Take things a little slower,
I will have time to sit and muse
And think of work no more.
Yes, I'll have time to sit and muse
Or help Frank with the mower.

However, after all's been said,
My uniform's still out,
For knowing Sarah Wallace well
I'll be called back, no doubt.

Farewell to Marie

"Goodbye", it seems so final,
And yes, we've said a few,
But never did we think that we
Would say 'Goodbye' to you

Eight years of service given
And always with a smile,
Ne'er a cross word spoken,
It's really not your style.

Ne'er a cross word spoken,
But that is not to say
Ne'er a crossword finished
If Marie had her way.

We don't know how we'll manage,
We really hate to nag,
But whate'er will poor Sam do
If no one clears his bag?

Matronhood, it beckons
And all that we can say
Is Burnbrae's loss is Ashwood's gain
Now Marie's going away.

So farewell to nurse Marie,
We'll ever think of you,
But 'goodbye' seems so final,
So we'll just say "adieu"

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

Spring is...............

What is Spring daddy, what is Spring?
What's it mean when birdies sing?
Why do flowers rise from the ground?
Where can butterflies be found?


Spring is......... laughter in the air,
Lovers walking without a care,
New born lambs a-skipping free,
Flowers budding in the lea.

Spring is......... brighter, longer days,
Cloudless skies, perhaps heat haze,
Birds that sing in morning sky,
Butterflies that flutter by.

Spring is....... grass that'll ever grow,
Bringing out the mower to mow,
Roses that we'll need to prune,
But maybe that will wait 'til June.

Spring is....... knowing Winter's past,
Summer's coming, very fast,
Natural flowers growing wild,
This is Spring, my dearest child.

Spring Up and Down

Summer's over, next the Fall
Then dark Winter days and all
The rain, the sleet, snow and blow,
With nothing on the earth to show
The splendid beauty that will ring
With the coming of the Spring.
But deep below, the earth's alive,
Anticipatingly, a hive
Of growing expectation,
Spring flowers in their elation,
Their roots and shoots are sending forth
New life and hope of brighter days
With glowing colour and sun's warm rays.
The snowdrop, crocus, tulip, 'dil,
Are sending forth their heads, to fill
Our gardens, be they large or small,
With radiance that our eyes enthral
And soon the birds will flutter by,
Perhaps Red Admirals espy.
But with this beauty comes the chores
Of hours of toil spent out of doors,
Removing flowers that wildly grow
And then the lawn we have to mow.
The shears and mowers alone wont work
But these are chores that we can't shirk
If we a garden glorious show
Flowers, that with radient splendour, grow.
But after all the toil is done
And there is no more radient sun,
The leaves, autumnal colours, turn
And mowers, to the shed adjourn.

Tuesday, 19 July 2011


Her eyes, they don't see colour,
Her world is black and white,
But she has the advantage
Of seeing all, at night.

She doesn't understand much,
But then, she's still no fool,
For anything she has learnt,
Has not been taught at school.

She's innocence personified,
A joy to watch at play,
A quiet, shy companion,
Of sunshine, she's a ray.

Her conversation's limited,
In fact, if truth be heard,
She only has a repertoire
Of one quite simple word.

Her day is most spent sleeping,
Or doing this or that,
And if you haven't guessed by now,
This female is........................... my cat.

Tuesday, 12 July 2011


The headlines read "It's Over"
But we are not so sure,
Is this another tactic,
Another means to lure
Us into false security,
To break the barrier down,
A means to get what they think
Is theirs, by right, to own?

The troops are moving out now,
But this just brings to mind
Echoes of their old demands,
"Troops out", 'out of our land'.
They've got their first concession,
But STILL, they demand more,
"Open up cross-border roads
To the state they were before"

The Irish and Americans
Think the solution will be theirs,
If only they would learn to keep
Out of British affairs.
They get still more concessions,
But what have they to give?
They could yield up their weapons
And let their country's men live

But no!, 'Negotiations' is all they have in mind,
And they are not prepared to wait
'Til a settlement is signed.
So for our children's children
A solution we must find.

Monday, 11 July 2011


Bombing, shooting, murdering thugs,
Living a violent life,
Permanently maiming
With their bitter, angry strife.
A quarter of a century
With nothing but this war,
I wonder if we'll ever see
The way it was before
A ceasefire, though not permanent,
A taste of freedom given,
Normality is reigning,
Is this what's known as heaven?
Talks about talks are starting,
Decommissioning must take place
Weapons no longer needed,
Return them with good grace
People now are coming
To visit our wee land
Jobs are in the prospect
If tourism will expand.
We like what we have tasted,
We all must take a stance
And not return to violence
But just give this a chance

Sunday, 10 July 2011


There they sit in solitude
What's going on in their mind?
A treasure chest of knowledge
Of a very different kind.

Years of vast experience.
Has it all been in vain?
To find themselves alone here,
Oft' despondent, oft' in pain.

But though they're in their own world
Not knowing time or day,
They show signs of contentment,
Though their minds will often stray.

With memories of good old days,
Re-living days long past,
They're in their second childhood
Though their years have gone so fast.

But who are we to grumble
About this aged race?
In thirty, twenty years hence,
We may well be in their place.

Care for them with thoughtfullness
And cherish them with love,
You too will find contentment
'Til you reach your home above.


Ten thousand miles across the world,
So far and yet so near,
From rising sun to where it sets,
Remember "I AM" here.

Though times you may feel lonely,
And you miss your friends so dear,
Just turn and talk to Jesus,
Remember, He is near.

When language seems a burden,
And you miss the A-Z.
Communication's vital,
Remember what He said.

"With you I will be always
Until the end of time"
Don't think that He'll desert you,
Remember, He's sublime.

When satan gets too tight a grip
And you need him kept at bay,
You'll always have one weapon,
Remember, you can pray.

Your family life's a witness,
On that, you'll be judged too,
By those within that nation, but
Remember, He's with you.

So when you feel downhearted
Remember that we care,
And though we're half a world away,
Remember, He is there.

Our Mary

'Twas in the year of '89,
A century ago,
A little baby girl was born
In Springburn, near Glasgow.

Now this wee girl, with kith and kin,
To Ulster's shores did come,
Years later she was married,
And soon became a mum.

With boys and girls, this 'girl' was blest,
She did have quite a few,
She had so many children,
She didn't know what to do.

Now this 'wee girl''s a mother,
A grandma, even great,
And all her kin are loved by her,
In her world, there's no hate.

Today it is her birthday,
She's one hundred years and three,
And so this ode is sent to say
"Happy Birthday" Our Mary.