The Road to Ballyhibbert

And it’s cold in the bones,
Mrs Colcannon, and it’s cold.

Our blood runs blue
- though none call us royal -
the cold snap will be
the sound of a sudden fall
on a rutted track
beside a Limerick field.

And it’s cold in the bones,
Mrs. Colcannon, and it’s cold.

The frost turns hard:
since no water slakes the dirt,
this cold snap will see
not one pathetic tuber
torn from barren soil
that lies in Limerick fields.

And it’s cold in the bones,
Mrs. Colcannon, and it’s cold

Our sons are gone –
with hope they crossed the water –
the cold snap will be
the break of mothers’ heartstrings
heard across an ocean,
far from Limerick fields.