Saturday, 24 November 2012


'Twas in the year of '34
A cold and wintry morn,
When Ballygawley had a birth,
A little girl was born.

She started out at nursing
Way back in '53
Reflecting back on 'good old days'
She had some times of glee.

She headed off to England
To be a young midwife,
But heartstrings called her back to where
She started out her life.

At nursing, she's an expert,
But teaching's not her call,
The elocution lessons
Helped Sarah - not at all.

She loves to go out dining
Or on a spending spree,
She'll still look after number 1
When money's not so free.

Today it is her birthday
And really, you can't tell
That sixty four has passed her by,
'Cause she looks frightfully well.


'Cause she looks frightfully well.


The second day of February,
The year of  '39,
When Mrs. Coleman had a girl
Her number one, in line.

She grew up in the country,
Down Ballyronan way,
And by the lough with siblings young,
This little girl did play.

She has a grown up family,
And they have offspring too,
'If only our Patricia
Would find someone to woo'

Although she is a great nurse,
A vet she'll never make,
Just ask about the budgerigar
Whose poor old leg did break.

She has a lovely handbag,
Like every other lass,
Just don't ask what she had in hers
That Sunday, during mass.

Whenever she was younger,
She loved to have a dance,
To get those joints a-moving now,
She'd need put in a trance.

She's always nice and slender,
And never on a diet,
But her cholesterol can be good
Or sometimes just run riot.

So now it's 1999
And years have passed, three score,
So happy birthday Eileen
And here's to sixty more.

Friday, 23 November 2012

Rhyme and Reason - a reason to rhyme

If you have a birthday,
Or anniversary,
Let me help you celebrate
With personal poetry.
Just give me all your details,
With just a little time,
And very soon I'll have composed
A personalized rhyme.

If you require this service
Please do not hesitate
To contact me, I'm on the line
Most evenings, after eight

Wedding Poem July 17 '98

Just a few short verses
To wish this happy pair
The best of wishes for their life,
A life they now must share.

To me, William's a stranger,
But as the song does go,
'A stranger's really just a friend'
A friend you do not know.

Now William came to Brian
To ask to take a vow, then
He and Aileen would be known
As Mr. & Mrs. Lowdon.

I appreciate your surname
Is spelt with 'O' not 'E'
But pronouncing Lowdon with the 'O'
Didn't rhyme, poetically.

Music plays a primary role
For Aileen, day to day,
So on this note, I've some advice,
Here's what I have to say,

Live your lives in unison,
Let love be ever poured,
Two lives that blend in harmony
But never in dischord.

Never let your love grow cold
Or let your temper fray,
Don't Bb, Don't B#
B natural, - that's okay.

Another key that you might need
Is key of A, Ab,
But then my understanding is
That William's holding that.

But really William, you have found
A truely gorgeous bride,
Someone to love and care for you
Wherever you may bide

And likewise Aileen, you have found
A man who you'll be proud of,
A man who'll give to you his all,
Who'll furnish you with his love.

So now that Aileen's fled the nest,
That just leaves our wee Fi.,
And the day that she does choose her man,
Will be a day of glee.

Then Brian and Joyce will be alone,
But I think they'll survive,
And eagerly await the day when
The grandchildren will arrive.

But then as they grow older,
And there's two or three wee wean,
They'll eagerly await the hour
When they'll all 'gae hame' again.

So William, one word in your ear,
Please let it not be said,
You have the dreaded 'mum-in-law'
Now that you are wed.

I hope your mum-in-law's like mine,
An angel on the wing,
Up in the air, she always is,
Harpin' on about something.

So Aileen, "ma William" and you,
Were made for one another,
I hope you take good care of him,
Just like his dear old mother.

To show how much he loves you,
Especailly on this day,
Your father did not have the heart
To give his girl away.

He left that up to his dad,
Who performed without a hitch,
So proves the old adage is wrong,
You CAN teach old dog new tricks.

True friendship is like honey,
Be friends with one another,
But don't forget that there's a friend
Who sticks closer than a brother.

So here's to Aileen and 'Oor Will'
I ask all in this room
To be upstanding, raise your glass,
And toast the 'bride and groom'.


It was the first Sunday of a new year
When this little girl was born,
The year in question was 1919.
'Twas a dismal wintry morn.

The second daughter to Agnes and Charles,
Her father, born a Scot,
Though granda McCrudden yearned for a son,
Four daughters was his lot.

In this capital city - Belfast east,
This little girl grew up,
But as a 'Good Templar', one vow was made,
Strong drink she would not sup.

When this girl was merely twenty years old,
A dashing young man she met,
The tenth day of May, in Carrick's old town
Is one they'll ne'er forget.

As previously told, her dad was a Scot,
So it was apt. and fair
That in married life, this young pair should live
In Carrick's 'Scotch Quarter'.

Her parents had girls, so it's ironic,
A girl was what she'd choose,
However, all of her offspring were clad
In lemons, whites and blues.

Before she had reached her fiftieth year,
Was born a babe so mild
A darling bundle of joy wrapped in blue,
Her number one grandchild.

At seventy years, eight grandchildren more,
Her last had fled the nest,
For one who wasn't to see her own raised,
She really had been blest.

So now the year is 1999,
Though fraught with joys and tears,
This sister, wife, mother, grandma, e'en great,
Has reached her fourscore years.


In the year of 1918,
A little boy was born
In yon 'ancient and historic' town,
On a sunny summer's morn

He grew up by the water,
A"Buckygelder'' he,
Oft. he and brother would be found
A-playing by the sea.

With all his schooling over,
A trade he went to learn,
A 'master tiler' he became,
A living for to earn.

Now oft. to a Good Templar hall
This young man would be bound,
On May the tenth, from Belfast east,
A maiden fair he found.

Within three years this pair were wed,
Within two more - an heir
But with each heir this mans dark locks
Grew less, and then grew greyer

Now qualities of leadership
This man displayed so grand,
Especially in the summer, with
The 'Star of Eden' band.

When threescore years and five were spent,
The pension he did take,
But retirement was not in his thoughts,
He just required a break.

When five more years had come and gone,
His toil was finally done,
Darby and Jones' time had come
To enjoy a bit of fun.

So now that fourscore years have passed,
This fellow aint done bad,
And I am proud that I can say,
He's my stupendous dad.

Thursday, 22 November 2012

Ode to Hilary

In just nine months of torture
And that from us, not you,
You've taught us all so very much,
And time has passed, nay, flew.

You taught us simple BODMAS
Back then, we were all green,
If we just knew th'advantages

We laughed when poor old Simon
Did get it right, 'Horrah'!

You could put that another way
And then try STANDARD FORM.

The brothers, namely Rodgers,
One smart, one smarter still,
Could easily have taken o'er
From our pet teacher, 'Hil'

There are CHARTS that feed and water,
That's PIE and BAR to you
And then there's all that 'Double Dutch'

And who could forget Robert
Cracking knuckles and some jokes,
But to get a homework from him,
You really had to coax.

The PROBABILITY of passing
Or getting a high mark,
If we would heed and hark.

And then there's quiet Colin,
He never said a word......
I wouldn't really believe that,
In fact, it's quite absurd.

Your Tuesday 'Access' students,
If they get a degree,
Will treasure all those mornings
They spent with 'Hilary'.


I'm sitting here alone
In house so cold and drear
Just waiting for the phone.

Her deeds I can't condone,
It isn't very clear,
I'm sitting here alone.

I never used to moan,
But now I keep an ear
Just waiting for the phone.

So now that she has flown,
I try to halt a tear,
I'm sitting here alone.

The seeds of love were sown
Yet now I find I'm here
Just waiting for the phone.

I feel 'cut to the bone'
Come back to me my dear,
I'm sitting here alone,
Just waiting for the phone.

A Fine wee cat

My fine wee cat is black and white
But doesn't dare go out at night,
Although alone most of the time,
When I come home, she shows she's mine
By purring with such pure delight.
Upon my bed she'll sit so tight
Or playfully pretend to bite,
This creature who has lives of nine
My fine wee cat.

When chasing dancing beads of light
You'll see her leap to such a height,
Prepare to pounce with pose so fine
Or wash herself until she shine,
She's really such a welcome sight,
My fine wee cat.

My Case

I rest my case upon the ground,
In which therein my world is found,
I have no home, no place to camp,
My clothes have holes, my feet are damp,
No rent to pay, but then no pound,
My pockets empty and I'm frowned
Upon by those who are begowned,
"Get out of here you theiving scamp"
I rest my case.

I have no goals and I am bound
To be forever shoved around,
My life's a steep ascending ramp
And I am known as 'that old tramp'
So as I pause, upon the ground,
I rest my case.