50 Years
Kathleen came to this town in 1954.
Weeds and wild grass blossomed
on an ice age road.
Shadowed by a fortress,
English armies left behind.
An Irish soldier won her heart and loved her,
true and kind.
50 years in this old place,
you can see it in her face:
The time and tide have treated her so softly,
and in her days she has seen change,
good and bad, sad and strange,
moving with the times for 50 years.
She smoked Woodbine cigarettes
and raised a family.
She watched them grow and prosper,
very happily.
There was homemade bread and stir about,
on Friday sometimes fish.
The rod was never spared,
neither was the kiss.
50 years in this old place,
you can see it in her face:
The time and tide have treated her so softly,
and in her days she has seen change,
good and bad, sad and strange,
moving with the times for 50 years.
She saw the very first fast cars,
passing by her gate.
The tinker and the blacksmith
simply fade away
Electric light replaced the lamp and TV,
conversation.
Peace time turned to hard times
with war's abomination.
50 years in this old place,
you can see it in her face:
The time and tide have treated her so softly,
and in her days she has seen change,
good and bad, sad and strange,
moving with the times for 50 years.
