a candle for the children [ finale]

           a Candle for the Children
                       [finale]

And so i sit and stare out of my window
i see the cold rain glistening on the trees;
as the dim light of December is descending
i feel the Christmas lights glow all around me.

                     [chorus]

             A Candle for the Children
                     [ a song by K.Harrington]
                

this Christmas light a candle for the children
and put a few more angels on the tree.
this Christmas say a prayer for people willing
to protect innocent lives in this land of the free.

it seems like long ago and early one morning
i heard my boys just breathing in their beds.
then i stood on a porch staring at a picture
of a fireman with a little girl among the dead.
                           [chorus]
now as i pour my self another coffee
i think that i might go out for a walk
right now i'm gonna turn off this damn t.v.
i can not bear to hear the news people talk.
                           [chorus]

[1st verse is chorus]

Innocent Ones [ a song]

                                         Innocent Ones

chorus:        Come you mothers, you fathers, you daughters , you sons
                    let a just God take care of the innocent ones.


                     
                    She rose up that morning to get on a plane:
                    Some business in L.A. then back home again.
                    She had no idea who else would be on that plane;
                     Or of the twin towers in a terrible rain.
                                [ chorus]

                     I turned on my t.v. to hear a storm warning.
                     Snow had been falling by my window all morning.
                     They issued a caution to folks every where:
                     Where ever you're going you'd better take care.

                                 [chorus]

                      Now it's a honey-sunned early Autumn day.            
                      Warm September wind is lifting my way.
                      Now with the summer's heat turned so sublime
                      Pictures of ash, glass and airplanes are stuck in my mind.

                                   [chorus]

I Guess He Had to Go

Gather round me people. Come listen to my song.

I'll sing to you a story. i 'll not detain you long

About a guitar player whose name you all should know.

I heard that he had chosen life, but i guess he had to go.

Named for a jazz musician, he grew up with the blues.

His soul was full of rock n' roll from his tee shirt to his shoes.

He could sing you any country song that you might care to know.

I heard that he had chosen life, but i guess he had to go.

I'm dreaming of the music. Tonight i am thinking about the man

Remembering the friends and times spent listening to the band:

Outside of Boston Music Hall, it was December of seventy-one

When he stopped to smile and talk with me after the show was done.

I don't go courting tragedy nor look for sad lament.

The only thing i know for sure is what was here just went

And the song that he was playing; it's all we've left to show.

I heard that he had chosen life, but i guess he had to go.

Now out near San Francisco hills are turning brown.

The bus is in the junk yard. The circus has shut down;

But up near Haight and Ashbury i swear i hear an old banjo.

I heard that he had chosen life; but i guess he had to go.

r.i.p. Jerry.

Ballad of the Boyne

Well my name it is Dan Sullivan.

I know you'll not have heard of me.

The farmin in West Cork m'lads;

It was not my destiny.

At the tender age of twenty one I left my native home.

Up the rocky road towards Dublin Town I was inclined to roam.

chorus:

So it's good bye to Cork City

Twice fare well to Limerick town.

So long to girls from Kerry.

They will not find me around.

I am headed north of Dublin

Where strange forces once did join,

And King Jimmy and King Billy fought

The Battle of the Boyne.

It was in 1689 James stepped onto the sod

He had Irish, Germans, Jacobites

Who said prayers to the same God.

They landed in Kinsale and

Sarsfield was with them there.

They thought Jim would reclaim the throne

In maybe half a year.

[chorus]

You may talk about your Gettysburg and also Waterloo.

What other fight did cause more grief

Even after it was through?

Now all down through the centuries

We've had to scrape for every coin

Since Billy won his vict'try at

The Battle of the Boyne.

[chorus]

Now i am lying here in Flanders Field

Where brave Sarsfield met release.

I am just another Irish lad

One of the Wild Geese.

Barbed wire's all around me and

The bombs and the bullets fly.

I wish it was for Ireland

If i am about to die.

[chorus]

for my Dublin buddy, Steve Lindsay.

on his birth day.

have a good one, bro.

K.H.

A Portrait of the Reader as an Older Man

In my own lone

some tower

I RISE where I lay.

Bare toes creaking lower

after first leak of day:

Light .

I look from my window across the far way

As Dedalus did gazing toward Dublin Bay.

I herald each morning now with porcelain cup;

A sea of dark forming. my hand brings it up.

Unlike bold Leopold,

There's no cat where I sup.

Off in easy chair corner is where I often am

And have with my coffee no toast, tea or jam.

Perched while waiting for perking to cook more fresh grounds

With mug and huge novel

in Ulysses' lee I drown.

Great book on the sidearm and vessel hooked hand

I watch young Buck Mulligan with razor in hand

And I am walking with stephen along a far strand.

I tried to get through it in school years before

Through imagey metaphors and day dreams galore:

oh how on first read

Did I not see before?

Now after each waking

When steps I've climbed down

I revel first hour not with T.S. or Pound

But reJoyce by my window

Where mourning clouds frown.

Then some times I shave in chalice like sink

As Mulligan did above Dublin's drink.

And when hot summer's come

And Spring falls away;

I'll go like the lot did down to swim in MY bay.

I'll splash soaking sore neck where wispy clouds wink.

Joyce voice in my brain will begin me to think...

His work works my mind and liquefies flow.

It furthers cognition that burrows and grows

And settles in snugly

to glow like his soft coals.

AND:

I will ponder on parapet high near the shore

Like Shakespeare, as Hamlet, did on Elsinore.

I'll let my thoughts travel from fingers to keys

Knowing "The Dead" man's long poem

Has lit his language in me.

Happy Blooms Day 2011

WAY TO GO B's!

Way Down by Waterside [#2]

I once had a Springtime lover

with eyes deep as the river

and a heart wide as the tide.

'n the salt air gave a shiver

way down by waterside.

chorus: we went walking out together

to view the moving tide

and the moonlight shook n shimmered

way down by waterside.

and a love i had in summer

she was wild as any rover

and she took me for a ride.

a few hours we spent together

way down by waterside.

[chorus]

now this love i've held through autumn

she has caught me when i've fallen

and she's stayed right by my side

all dreams are not forgotten

way down by waterside.

[chorus]

so the spring time is returning

and i hear the gold finch warbling

and he flutters as he flies.

these lives that we've been living

will be gone with the tide.

[chorus]

Way Down by Waterside

i once had a Springtime lover

with eyes wide as the river

and a heart full as the tide

in salt air she gave a shiver

way dow by waterside.

chorus: we went walkin out together

to view the movin tide

and the moonlight shook n shimmered

way down by waterside.

now a love i had in summer

she was wild as any rover

and she took me for a ride.

a few hours we spent together

way down by waterside.

[chorus]

this love i've held through Autumn

she has caught me when i've fallen

and she's stayed right by my side

some dreams we've had together

way down by waterside.

[chorus]

so the springtime is returning

and i hear the gold finch warbling.

all these lives that we've been living

will be gone with the tide

way down by waterside.

[chorus]

clear the Road or Ballad of the Irish Brigade

Clear the Road; clear the road is the phrase i am told

on the green flag i see out there wavin

clear the way; clear the way for the Irish Brigade

clear the way for the brave sons of Erin.

Just a twelve year old lad; scared hungry and sad

when he left in the year of fifty seven.

a few coins from his dad was all that he had

when he stepped on the pier in East Boston.

General Meagher he come 'round to the auld seaport town

was a fifty dollar bounty he promised:

"join for your new land in a brave Irish band

the south's for the rich n the british."

chorus

he stuck to his gun that day at Bull Run

even when the general went down right near him.

he was a man who stood tall that day in the fall

by a Maryland creek called "Antietam".

Little Mac had the "slows"; Abe said he must go.

It was Burnside chosen to replace him.

Next thing they would see was not the banks of the Lee;

but the shores of the old Rappahannock.

chorus

the bearded general in grey stood watchin all the day

as Burnside sent good men to slaughter.

he dodged shot 'n shell and he fought 'till he fell

and that night the northern lights came over.

chorus

[first verse is also the chorus]

A Pint for St. Patrick

one vision as i hang about

enraptured by a fall of stout

before the barkeep in this place;

myself with legends, some of the greats.

handle's down for to let pass

a stormy dream from brass to glass

place is packed with gal 'n gent

round tables live with merriment.

Parnell and Collins here now and chewin.

it's in their glass a storm is brewin.

there's Father O'neil,Tom Meagher and Tone.

while in the corner with Maude Gonne

Yeats is working on his Easter poem.

watch Christie Moore and Bob O'Dylan

click two pints and start to chillin

as just in from the land of free

is Clinton, Curley and the Kennedys.

Willie Shakespeare has been known to scrawl

his lengthy poems upon the wall.

and Christ himself tis said came out

when the favored brew was running out

and told the keep: "pour them more stout!"

Coleman of course has hand to bow

and Paddy Carty has flute to blow

Bono and Van the man bang in

with a blind guy named O'Carolan.

now the piper Keenan's about to start

when a sudden gust gives crowd to part

and standin there with staff in hand

is the saint who chased snakes from the land.

his beard is long; his bare feet dirty

convertin druid's made his throat all thirsty...

...now a jarring jar upon the bar

might remind some one of whom they are.

but just fore this is takin place

it's up there speaks Jim Joyce to Yeats

sayin:

"A Drink this Good is worth the Wait."

have a great and save time, friends

Angel of Mayo

a song by k "buck" Daly and K "harry" Harrington

from the county of Mayo so far cross the sea

there came once an angel of mercy

it's my time of dying she eases for me

i am waiting for Jesus to take me.

when just a young lass she walked bare foot on stones

to her home she would carry the water.

now she is near i won't face death alone

by my bed she is gentle as mother.

[chorus]

here black, puerto rican, poor christian and jew

find beauty in her quiet wisdom.

look into her eyes, she'll not give up on you

in her heart we're all one of his children.

[chorus]

1st verse is also the chorus

Angel of Mayo

on the death of Michael Collins

on the death of Michael Collins

the day they blew Mick Collins down

he'd been to home and all around:

laughed with friends in his cousin's pub;

again a cork man,

not a Dub

nor reb who rattled an empire's jewels and

sat with satan to bring home rule

when Dev himself could see it all

and left Mick standing with the ball.

He knew britania's great design

was bombs away if he did not sign.

that day he'd trod without alarm

by rutted road to family farm

to hold his own ones in his arms.

saw old friend faces in fields and slowed

near Bandon town as i am told:

a moonlit road; a craggy pass

is where the great one breathed his last.

The Ballad of Thomas Meagher [a song]

come you freedom loving folks a tale i'll tell to you.

my story might seem fanciful, but every word is true.

about the bold young Thomas Meagher from Waterford he come.

'tis said he didn't care to hear the beat of an English drum.

well schooled in world philosophies, he was a merchant's son.

A lover of great poetry, he was handy with a song.

he grew famed for giving orat'ries seditious to the crown

'till the judge he said that Thomas Meagher would be Van Deman bound.

if life it be a precious jewel and liberty a gem;

we should not forget the thoughts of freedom loving men.

to bosses in tasmania one day a note come 'round

was Thomas said:" this very night i'll be escaping from your town

come catch me if you're able", the brash young Meagher did say.

while their horses cleared the stable, he was rowing in the bay.

then near the town of Fredricksburg he lead his men up hill

where the foolish General Burnside sent so many to be killed.

the rebels poured a murderous fire from a wall by a sunken road;

yet in the rising tumult, an emerald banner showed.

if life it be a precious jewel and liberty a gem;

we should not forget the thoughts of freedom loving men.

death it came to Thomas Meagher in Montana late one day.

it was when the war was over. he'd been through the bloody frays.

they said that from a steamer he fell overboard and drowned.

in the wide river water, no body was ever found.

so come you independent folk wherever that you be

and give a thought to those who fought for human dignity.

if you're on the missouri, just a driftin way out there;

i hope you'll pause to say a prayer for the soul of Thomas Meagher.

if life it be a precious jewel and liberty a gem;

we should not forget the thoughts of freedom loving men.

A Cowboy's Song

by Kevin L. Harrington

Chapter 1

When he had his fill of food and drink, he felt weary and lay down to rest beneath the sparkling sky. It was in the moon when roses bloom and their camp was in some cottonwoods by the river. A fire was still blazing: blue-black smoke turning up to touch the face of stars in darkened evening. Sarah returned from the river and stood back to him in the leaping orange glow of the flames. Hard work in hot sun had tanned her lean frame and toned her muscles. He watched silver rivulets run curving paths down long bronze thighs. Then this: the swift passing of the brush as she bent to comb her sandy brown mane. Her ass was a firm, pale glow beneath the moon. For a moment he thought he saw Orion through the crook of a multi- bangled arm. Then the brush fell and she was with him. There was the earthy taste of wild river water in her mouth.

Chapter 2 ... And young willie's eyes were sharp as any eagle's

he could spot a rider from a good full mile's run

not much for the big towns or the ways of all the people

the only law he knew was when the smoke came from a gun.

William E. Johnson walked slowly around the bar and stood, back to the wall, in a place where he liked to watch the door. He tipped the back of his hat brim up and stared wordlessly for a moment at the roughly hewn wood; waiting for the sound of beer being poured. Shortly there came the thud of his jar upon the bar and Liam O'malley, the bar man, took just enough coin from before the young cowhand. Inside the "Souls of Poets Tavern" the air was warm and redolent of stale beer, smoke and whiskey. Outside a sadistic sun was baking the earth into dust. It rose in tiny cyclone swirls from the road at the slightest hint of hoof or wheel or rare breeze up from the river.

The room was empty save for the two men and a prostitute named Maria. From over at a corner table she called him with her eyes. " Why don't you cume n seet weet me weelie?" And he had a thought to join her, but before he moved a gaunt black man had pushed through the swinging doors and moved silently over to her table satchel in hand. she raised her head as the man bent to whisper some thing in her ear. After stopping at the bar for a bottle, the two of them moved without shyness up the rear stairs towards a small bedroom above.

Down by the Pond

a song to the tune of "lord Franklin":

Summer is gone now. The Autumn is on

with the red, gold and green colored watery dawns.

My friends and my family i care for each one.

I am riding my bicycle down by the pond.

I recall a time it was just around the bend

i'd been bugging my dad to take me fishing with him

We didn't get nothin till on the far shore

We saw them all jumpin by an old cabin door.

We were reeling them in. it was easy and free

When i felt the old man smile over at me.

With the moon on the water not much was said

about the "keep out sign hung over our heads.

When we were kids we would drive far away

To a pond in the pines where mom swam in her day

When long day ended stars littered a dome

there was dreaming and singing

all our long way home.

My wife and i married then rode the north hills

to a spot near the border where the water was still.

Evenings we swam in a bottomless lake

These many years later i still think of that place.

and i took our young boys on mystery walks

up through the ball fields and on toward the docks.

Each weary way home would come their refrain:

Dad why are mystery walks always the same?

now as my body it does give me pain

i'm turning my bicycle t'ards home in a rain

i know i've been lucky.. i know it's been grand.

my friends and my family, they're who i am.

and winter is coming now; make no mistake

i'm watching two swans slide low across the lake

all of my money i would freely spend

to know we could live those old times again.

" if my thought dreams could be seen

they'd probably put my head in a guilloteen"

B.Dylan