My Home Town

My Home Town

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I WAS born and reared in Ballina, a place I call my own,

Situated on the River Moy, not far from Enniscrone;

It’s noted for its beauty spots and Belleek China, too,

But most of all the welcome the people have for you.

The Báinín wool is fairly cheap and when there’s nothing else to do,

It’s grand to look down from the bridge and watch the salmon go;

But now the time is getting short, I know that I must leave,

And every time I think of it I start again to grieve.

I think of all the good times and of my childhood days;

It all comes flooding back to me in so many ways;

And as I go from Ballina I see a garden wall,

And many times I sat on it and felt nearly six feet tall.

Now the train is moving fast and I can hardly see

The place that I was born in as we’re nearing Castlerea;

And on and on we go, and don’t want to look back

As we realize the miles we’ve done on that old railway track.

We got into Dublin and it was raining hard,

Some of us were weary, you’d think that we were ‘jarred’!

And after what seemed a lifetime we reached Dun Laoghaire pier,

It still was sort of misty and everything looked queer!

The boat was there, and at ten to ten we all got in and sailed away,

And fell asleep out in the deep until the break of day.

We land in Morecambe, a lovely seaport town,

We got off the boat and everyone wore a frown;

Then going through the Customs, it was everyone for himself,

And if you’re not quick in getting out, you’re left there on the shelf.

We caught the train to Birmingham, it was then half past nine,

And saw some bunny rabbits as we passed along the line.

So far so good, we feel like mud and very far from home,

And keep saying to ourselves, we never more shall roam.

Come next year and we’ll do the same and cross the pond once more,

And sing and laugh and dance, ’til we land on Eireann’s shore.

The holiday is over as back to work we go,

To shorten the old Winter and to earn some more dough.

So good-bye P. and Mollie, and all the family, too,

We’ll remember all the good things and the times we had with you.

So say us to Pat and Ron, and to Marie and Hugh,

When the Summer comes again, we’ll be in Rooskey with you.

To-day is very sad for me, I must now depart,

But in the end wherever I go—in Ballina I leave my heart.

                       Madge Kevaney-Hodder

                                                      Ex-St. Muredach’s Terrace, Ballina. 1974.                                             R.I.P.