My mother’s home was wilderness

The poorest of the poor

My father’s father pretty much the same

He came from a farm at Slinaun

The shoulder of a hill

Poor land there

The last plot on the rise


My father’s mother

English born

Of Irish immigrants

Was raised in Tyldesley

Coalmine cotton town

Poverty was what she knew

Trumble was her name

A lovely lady

Nothing got her down


I think of them this afternoon

Resting in my house

Poverty a thing I never knew

A glass of Bordeaux now and then

I raise to family

I’ll have a glass today

I might have two


Long Lost Family on tonight

Great stories there are told

Parents and children torn apart

Come in now from the cold

My parentage I knew them well

Lovely people all

The blessing of good family

Continues in my stall


Brian Fahy

23 August 2021


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