Some stories should never be forgotten.
An Irishman newly arrived in Tyldesley and working down the pit, was living in a lodging house with two other men. At Christmas time his mother sent him a chicken and he asked the landlady if she would cook it for his tea. That evening the roast chicken was brought in to him, and while the other two men had their meagre tea, this fellow set about the chicken. When he had demolished it all, he put down his knife and fork, and letting out a sigh, said, “Well now, that was a little bit too much for one and not quite enough for two.”
The same man, when first arrived in the lodging house, was not impressed with the dinners put down to him by the landlady, especially when he saw just a few small potatoes looking at him from his plate. When the landlady left the room he looked at his two dinner companions and said, “God be with the country where you couldn’t see your own father over the table for shkins!”
My father gave me these stories. They deserve to live forever.
Brian Fahy
8 January 2022
Erris Poetry 