A Quiet Pint

My father took me for a drink

When I was newly priest

Holy Family Catholic club

A few miles to the east

Dressed in black and sensitive

To what people then might say

We drove those miles to Boothstown

To be out of the way

 

My mother had suggested it

She knew I liked a pint

God bless her for her sensibleness

Bold she was not faint

Early Sunday evening

We supped our quiet gill

And home again before the crowd

Came in to have their fill

 

I felt imprisoned in that black

It never suited me

As though let out on license

Have one or two not three

I’d rather have walked down Shakerley Road

To Paddy’s Hump the track

And supped with dad to my heart’s content

And then come rolling back!

 

I have a pint beside me now

As I recall that day

And raise my glass to my dear old dad

His example was my stay

Wherever I am so what I do

However I may feel

To think on dad is all I need

To help me see what’s real

 

Brian Fahy

17 August 2021