Upon The Docks… Poem by Little Eagle McGowan

Upon the docks was my own big brother
Waving at my boat as it got small
In a little bag of hand-made leather
With everything I owned as I recall
A family picture of us all in good weather
And Daddy was still standing strong and tall
Shamrocks abounded over all the heather
With sweet dreams and love for one and all.

Mother these things that I'm divulging
Must never be to your sad regret
For wasn't it me who went a-roving
And they'll not have the best of me, not yet.
Folks here with pockets now a-bulging
And their hearts sunk inside their chests
While old Paddy they're all reviling
Along with stray dogs I must confess.

And in this Church, upon a Sunday morning
There's just a single one, and that is me
My heart stops without any warning
Thinkin' of home and Ireland, suddenly…
a tear on an old church pew a-fallin'…
And not even another soul there to see...
Oh but now, tell me Ma, does Mary Hannon
Still walk gayly up and down the street?