Friday, 23 November 2012


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.