I gave a mission
In Bradford, Manchester
Inner city east side of the town
The old priest there
A lovely Irish shepherd
Ate bacon and cabbage
Like a treat went down
The place had suffered
Much from renovation
Streets knocked down
New streets in the sky
One old lady
Marooned in a high rise
Looked out a lonely loft
Way up high
Unable to walk far
The lift was broken
A neighbour brought her food
Most every day
Surrounded by her photos
Of grandchildren
Her world around her
Her world yet far away
She pointed down to where
Her house once fitted
With other homes
On terra firma land
Born and bred in Bradford
Now an exile
Up in the air
Where everything
Would be grand
Down in those streets
I met a couple
‘Come in, Father’
The old man warmly said
Picked up the evening paper
As he said it
Laughed a little laugh
And shook his head
They call it ‘a friend dropping in!’
This evening paper
Every single night
Reports of muggings
Burglary and mischief
Enough to give anyone a fright
Never forgot that parish
Nor those people
Lovely folk and salt of the earth
‘Grimsville’ is the place
They had to dwell in
But they had spirit!
My, for all its worth!
Brian Fahy
19 May 2021
I gave a mission in St Brigid’s Catholic Church, now knocked down and replaced by a much inferior building, sometime around 1980. A lot of knocking down and rebuilding was going on. The old priest, Father Michael Cronin and his people had met with council officials many times, in the planning stages. Some very grim high-rise monstrosities replaced the old terraced streets.
The priest I found a wonderful man. He loved his bacon and cabbage and floury potatoes. So did I.
BF.
Erris Poetry 