That’s How It Began

that’s how it began
would you like to hear that song
she said leaning into
folds of kneaded dough

and ‘all around my hat
and ‘the days of the Kerry dancers’
filled the kitchen air
oh and a child’s wondrous senses

but little did I know
those songs would break my heart
as a young man walking home
from work through a London Park

and later when I laid to rest
in a spot in Bethnal Green
those sweet old melodies
would unstill my fitful dreams

and take me far away
over lands and across seas
till I felt the sweep and grasp
of a swell so dark and deep

and wave after wave after wave
as they swayed and rose and stole
with all their dark momentum
to the edge of Brandon’s shore

and took me through the bay
from Gleanagealt to Curaheen
and on into the dream
from Anna Church to Princes Street

To a hand that’s beating time
on the edge of an old chair
and a frail voice rising over
graceful wizened hair

‘oh for the days of the Kerry Dancers
oh for the ring of the piper’s tune
oh for one of those hour’s of gladness
gone alas like our youth too soon’

that’s how it began