PULSE - Writings on Sliabh Luachra
By Tommy Frank O'Connor
PULSE - Writings on Sliabh Luachra Details:
Published: April 2005
Sample piece from PULSE - Writings on Sliabh LuachraDOUBTING TOMMY
'Twas a week before Christmas when all sorts of doubts
Played around in my head like a cat with a mouse.
A girl up the road told me there was no Santy -
Any a boy who believed was a bit of a pansy.
The smirk on her face told me I had been childish
To think that an ancient old saint could be flying it
With reindeer and sled and a tonnage of presents
For snotty-nosed rascals with heads full of nonsense.
In Geography class we were learning the atlas -
All the miles and the oceans from Kerry to Lapland.
Then my mind got to thinking how anyone might
Find the homes of all children in one winter's night.
Yet the priest and my teachers, my father and mother
Assured everyone that there truly was never
A more magical person than jolly old Santa
Bringing goodness and joy like a twinkling phantom.
Could all fathers and mothers who once had been children
Still believe in a fellow who is non-existent?
So I knew that thirteen-year-old girl was a bonbon
For Santa, last Christmas, had brought her a rag doll.