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For St Patrick’s Day.
Enjoy.
“ St. Patrick” & his wife “Sheelah”
St. Patrick’s Day is March 17th, St, Sheelah’s Day is March 18th, for the first time, both days this year in Ireland are “ Public Holidays”.
Well, Holy God! It looks like St. Patrick was married and we used to celebrate his wife every year. The mention of Sheelah in the written word stretches back hundreds of years.
1. St. Patrick’s Wife “Sheelah”:
Some say Sheelah was ‘Patrick’s wife’, others that she was ‘Patrick’s mother’; while all agree that her ‘immortal memory’ is to be maintained by potations of whiskey
For hundreds of years, Ireland has had an icon of womanhood and a compelling symbol of all things female, yet few people know her name. The forgotten goddess is none other than “Sheelah”, once widely celebrated on March 18th, both in Ireland and among the diaspora, yet now all but disappeared.
It is thought that said Sheelah was St Patrick’s wife. That might not be the case, but at least it brought Sheelah and her festival back to our attention. I believe Sheelah or Sheila, Sheela, Shela, Sheelagh, or Síle, depending on the source, has far more to her than the once widely held belief that she was our national saint’s other half.
Sheelah’s Day fell each year on March 18th, and the usual dispensation to disregard Lenten abstinence on March 17th and wet the shamrock, drink alcohol, in other words, in honour of St Patrick was extended to the following day as well, in honour of his so-called wife.
2. Three Day Festivals:
The 16th, 17th (St Patrick’s Day), and 18th March. This elongated name recognises that most Irish festivals, including fairs, pattern days and wakes, took place over three days: the gathering, the feast and the scattering. Sheelah’s Day was the last (but not the least) of the traditional three days of celebration that began on the eve of St. Patrick’s Day.
“The day after St Patrick’s Day is ‘Sheelah’s day’, or the festival in honour of Sheelah. Its observers are not so anxious to determine who ‘Sheelah’ was, as they are earnest in her celebration. Some say she was ‘Patrick’s wife’, others that she was ‘Patrick’s mother’ while all agree that her ‘immortal memory’ is to be maintained by potations of whiskey. The shamrock worn on St Patrick’s Day should be worn also on Sheelah’s day, and on the latter night, be drowned in the last glass. Yet it frequently happens that the shamrock is flooded in the last glass of St Patrick’s Day, and another last glass or two or more on the same night, deluges the over-soddened trefoil. This is not ‘quite correct’ but it is endeavoured to be remedied the next morning by the display of fresh shamrock, which is steeped at night in honour of ‘Sheelah’ with equal devotedness.”
This festive time coincides with the vernal equinox, one of the two midpoints of the sun’s annual cycle, in the season of new fertility, when days are poised to outlast nights for the first time since the autumn equinox, the previous September. An emphasis on new life and procreation is manifest in a host of mythological incarnations and folk reflexes at this time of the year.
The goddess and holy woman Brigid is celebrated on February 1st; the analogous figure of Gobnait, goddess of fertility and beekeeping, is commemorated on February 11th. These women usher in the new cycle of fertility with ploughing, sowing, and the birth of animals, the rising of the sap, and the reawakening of nature.
This time of year in the past brought an equal emphasis on human marriage and reproduction, with Shrove Tuesday, immediately before Lent, long being the most popular day in Ireland to be married.
3. Newfoundland:
Sheelah still echoes through Newfoundland, otherwise known as Talamh an Éisc, or Land of the Fish, the most Irish place outside Ireland. An amazing legend on this Canadian island, which many still believe to be true, centres on Sheila na Geira, or Síle Ní Ghadhra, a young Irish princess from Connacht.
Sometime in the 1600s, when she was en route to a French convent to finish her education under the care of her abbess aunt, pirates commandeered her ship. One of them, Gilbert Pike, from a well-to-do English family, fell in love with her. They married aboard and then settled down in Mosquito, in south-western Newfoundland. Here, in time, Sheila na Geira gave birth to a child – according to tradition the first white European child to be born in Newfoundland – so it is said that many there owe their lineage to her. It is also said that every Irishman who visited and settled on Newfoundland paid obeisance to Sheila na Geira, who reportedly lived to 105.
In keeping with her mother-goddess attributes, the last big snowstorm after St Patrick’s Day is still called “Sheila’s brush” in Newfoundland. The idea is that Patrick is fighting with his wife, now a miserable hag at war with the world. (The idea that Patrick had a wife called Sheila must have arrived with the Irish of the 18th and 19th centuries). She spitefully brushes the last of the winter snow into the way of the new cycle of work.
4. The Cailleach:
But elderly women also had experience of the world and were custodians of inherited knowledge, playing significant roles in rites of passage in the human life cycle and the cycle of the year. They acted as midwives, co**se washers, and professional mourners; they advised on herbalism and vernacular medicine, and they were central to events such as the pattern day. In this respect, Sheelah, as the old woman, is strongly resonant with the important Irish folk figure known as the Cailleach.
The Cailleach – the old, wise healer – is a multifaceted personification of the female cosmic agency. Irish mythological, historical, and folkloric expressions cast her as the expression of the territorial- and tribal-sovereignty queen and as the life force inherent in nature, nurturing and maternal but also terrifying and destructive.
5. Sheelah-na-gig:
The Cailleach tradition’s deep roots in ideas of birth, fertility and death bring us back to the Sheela-na-gig. Ireland has more than 100 examples of these often-misunderstood medieval stone carvings. The women in them, who are reclining or squatting, often have big ears, long hair, gritted teeth, emaciated ribs and prominent breasts, while displaying their v***a. The stone carvings are somewhat explicit in nature but were commonly found on Churches and Castles built before the 16th century. Most of them were found above doors ways so they did play a vital role in protecting the building from evil.
So far the Sheela-na-gig‘s have been discovered in various countries such as Spain, France, Britain, and Ireland. The greatest number of Sheela-na-gig’s is in Ireland, mostly in locations that have been influenced by the Normans who invaded.
There are so many questions left unanswered about Sheela, and even the Sheela-na-gigs, so the theories behind them are still wide open for interpretation.
They often appear on medieval tower houses, medieval church sites, and holy wells. I recently came across one on the outside wall of Tower House in Cullahill, Co. Laois. For a long time, they were seen as representations of the evils of lust or as ways of averting the “evil eye”. But Sheela-na-gigs are more convincing, in line with the Cailleach, as folk deities associated with birth and death. And so Sheelah embodies the cycle of fertility that overarches natural, agricultural and human procreation and death.
6. Lug:
That Sheelah was thought of as St Patrick’s wife is a significant folk reflex. The cult of Patrick is firmly based on the pre-Christian deity Lug, or Lugh – as in Lughnasa or Lúnasa, the harvest festival – who represents the male side of the life-giving equation. Lug personifies the ideal man, exemplified in the complex ideology of Irish kingship. It is the union of male and female that allows us to exist.
Thanks to Cindy Molloy for notifying me about this competition. There’s great prizes €1500
For first prize. And lots of runner up prizes.
I’ve entered 3 poems. If I’m not in I cannot win.
https://www.lafcadiohearngardens.com/sean-dunne-poetry-competition/?fbclid=IwAR3Ar4y9q8MTQnJb4GsnU2kQ6kP2d3iqO4i1Fpae75KE_RRFFQeNlcRvUNU_aem_AbrmEyH1aDMK2xJpxW4l38RfwdcN545kXLNvVIu2uzX3St8UgpdAABrteGjSjJeOfhI
Poetry Competition Sean Dunne Award - Lafcadio Hearn Japanese Gardens Poetry Competition Ireland 2024 in memory of Waterford Writer Sean Dunne. Enter 1 poem or 3 poems deadline 12 May 2024 visit: www.lafcadiohearngardens.com
****A Visit to the City****
Cars and buses choke the roads,
Hurried anxious people squabble,
Housewives move in darting hoards,
City gents move at the double.
Lights say stop or go or wait,
Every second shop says 'SALE',
Buskers who are hard to rate,
Crowded pubs with luke warm ale.
Elderly drunks sit sprawled and dirty,
Raincoat men sell damaged goods,
Courts who judge the good and guilty,
Chemists who sell health with drugs.
Yellow perils called traffic wardens,
Boys in blue in Garda cars,
Theaters cinemas public gardens,
Bottles boxes tins and jars.
Hungry merchants who never lie,
Swindle people from afar,
Let me get away from this concrete jungle,
And return to the country away so far.
For the day that’s in it.
Here’s a cover version of a woman’s heart sang by my niece on my birth mothers side. With myself on keyboards.
Sinead Healy Only a Woman's Heart Sinead Healy Only a Woman's Heart. Feel free to have a listen and share it about. Contact me please if you want the track for Radio play.
****Country in my heart****
We all should love the Nature,
As the Nature loves us all,
Be it it mountain be it fountain,
Or be it a waterfall.
We all should love the Nature,
As the Nature loves us all,
We shall leave no stone unturned,
Let the endeavour be big or be it small.
We all should love the Nature,
As the Nature loves us all,
We should nourish and adore the Nature,
Like a Barbie doll.
We all should love the Nature,
As the Nature loves us all,
We should do no more damage to the nature,
As we have received the final call.
We all should love the Nature,
As the Nature loves us all,
Let the deforestation and air pollution,
Should be totally stopped and stalled.
Kevin Sharkey telling it like it is. I had similar experiences. When I was 17 years of age I went to my local Garda Station to report my abuse. The Garda kicked me out of the station and said.
“ Don’t ever try and tell me that Gerald Doherty and Pa**ie Gallagher done anything wrong they both are pillars of society “ so I figured out that the law was against me and siding with paedophiles. Many years later it was proven many times over that both the law and the church were against the victims. They both made it almost impossible for victims to get their day in court. How many victims were paid off by paedophiles ??
I would say it would be thousands. How could we get fair play ? Both the Law & Church & legal Advisers were all against us.
TikTok · Angela ray 59 likes, 7 comments. Check out Angela ray's video.
**** Mary’s lamb ****
Mary had a little lamb,
Haunting every dream,
Lambs eyes red and full of dread,
Making Mary scream.
Mary had a talk with mum,
This didn’t go very well,
Mum shrugged this off with a laugh,
Handing Mary a little bell.
Mary ties this to the lamb,
Whilst haunting one of her dreams,
Now Mary hears this little bell,
On the lamb that feeds off screams.
I can hear you coming,
As she hears the twinkling of the bell,
I’m telling you now you scary lamb,
You can go straight back to hell.
© March 4th 2007
This poem may be shared with friends or family on social media, but all of the rights remain with and belong to the author John o Donnell (cotter)
It may not be sold, published or used in any way to make a profit without written consent of the owner.
**** Listen ****
Listen to the sounds around you,
What do you hear right now,
Maybe birds singing in the trees,
Humans arguing having a row.
Listen to the world,
As it goes about its day,
Maybe it's sounds of engines,
Horses playing in the hay.
Listen to everything around you,
What is it you hear
Maybe some particular noises,
Happy scary full of fear,
Listen as you shut your eyes,
Can you hear a sound,
Maybe a serenade, a lullaby,
Your heart as it pounds.
Listen its time to say farewell,
I'll bid you all good night,
Maybe we can talk again,
And maybe I can write.
© March 3rd 2024
For the day that’s in it.
**** The Weather****
It's raining with some thunder,
The smell of grass is in the air,
I'm standing here and watching,
The lightning coming from over there.
The rain is now pouring down harder,
And here I am soaking wet,
The thunder is almost on top now,
This is as bad as it can get.
Finally its calming down now,
The thunder blew over real fast,
Im still shivering from the wet clothes here,
But even that won't really last.
**** Thinking and Thinking****
It's three in the morning,
And I sit here yawning,
Flushing my night's rest away.
You ain't come home yet,
And my mind is dead set,
Once more you've decided to stray.
You know that I love you,
And my love is so true,
I won't say a word once you're home.
But darling I'm missing,
The lips that he's kissing,
Since the day they decided to roam.
You don't know that I know,
The places that you go,
And who's hand you're holding each time.
As I sit here drinking,
My sore head's done thinking,
Not knowing if you are still mine.
It's three in the morning,
And I sit here yawning,
Flushing my night's rest away.
You ain't come home yet,
And my mind is dead set,
Once more you've decided to stray.
**** Derrybeg **** ...
Above the village of Derrybeg, as dawn breaks on the moor,
Amidst the distant rumbling, as waves race to the shore,
I hear an eerie whispering, suggesting someone’s near,
Nervously I turn around, to see no one is there.
The haunting sound of bracken, shifting in the breeze,
Accompanied by shadows, which add to my unease
Fuelling speculation, the existence of a beast,
Strange hallucinations, on which the animals feast.
Footprints pe*****te the dew, imprinting in the ground,
Appearing to get closer, each time I turn around,
Sweat drips from my forehead, fear controls my mind,
As I sense the entity, cannot be far behind.
Racing down the hillside, slipping on the slope,
Driven by the knowledge, I have no other hope,
Leaping over stone walls, ravaged by the gorse,
Remaining in direction, of my chosen course.
As I near the road ahead, fears now all subside,
Soon I shall be in my car, feeling safe inside,
Looking back at footprints, all in perfect line,
Where those I ran in fear of,actually mine.
On behalf of Mick Hyland and myself we want to thank everybody that donated or shared this go fund me. If you haven’t donated yet may we thank you in advance. Any donation no matter how small will be gratefully accepted.
CHARITY APPEAL from Michael Hyland: I am trying to raise funds for two important people to me. John & my dad Mick.
I am doing this so that I can help them purchase new mobility scooters and some extras that they are in need of.
SEE FULL APPEAL:
Please support, John O Donnell & Mick Hyland, organized by Michael Hyland Hello everyone. I am here to raise funds for two important people who… Michael Hyland needs your support for Please support, John O Donnell & Mick Hyland
Especially written for the unelected Government
PLEASE SHARE IT AROUND. Thanks.
**** Trying to exist ****
Planning for your future,
Holes in shoes & socks,
Hoping things get better,
Even thou they’re closing shops.
Checking all your bank statements,
Seeing nothing as changed,
Not a pot to p**s in,
Feeling slightly deranged.
Everyone’s in the same boat,
All sharing the same old paddle,
Juggling between food & heat,
Putting your life in a muddle.
Everyday the news is depressing,
It’s never good but bad,
Scratching for your livelihood,
Even thou you work you’ve been had.
Can no one see the systems wrong,
As the robberies are on the increase
Can’t blame them all for trying
But where are the police.
Pulling over innocent motorists,
They’re the easiest to stop & fine,
Working out how to pay for it,
When will what I earn be mine.
The government all look down on us,
Like we are the s**t on their shoe,
Controlling how to run our life’s,
Nothing changes it’s nothing new.
Penny pinching from Peter to Paul,
To try & make ends meet,
The food the gas electric & water,
Barely with shoes on our feet.
But it doesn’t matter we’ll die one day,
Another statistic who’ll be forgotten,
Who pays their way in society,
That society treated so rotten.
A hole in the ground that’s covered in grass,
No gravestone to visit, pay respect,
A poor working class person,
That everyone will forget.
A future where you planned ahead,
Hoping a change would come your way,
On the news your not even mentioned,
The moment you passed away.
You don’t exist now you’re dead,
You didn’t exist when you were alive,
It’s a case of all for yourself in this life,
It’s the only way to survive.
For the day that’s in it with snow.
**** The Goblin's Snowman ⛄️ ****
I know that this sounds silly,
But I swear this tale is true
And you can laugh all you want,
Truth is I would too.
But I tell you that snowman,
The one just right outside,
Was built last night by goblins,
With wrinkly little hides.
I know that sounds ridiculous,
But I'm telling you the truth!
Only problem that I have,
My tale is lacking proof.
But if proof is what I need,
For you all to believe,
I'll have that proof come morning,
Through a plan I have conceived.
I'm going to wait behind that tree,
And see what I can see,
And never doubt that I will have,
My camera there with me.
The sun began to say farewell,
And fled the western sky,
The time had come for me to show,
My story was no lie.
I settled in behind that tree,
My camera there with me
And shivered in the bitter cold,
But waited patiently.
I hadn't been there very long,
When I heard an awful thump,
As something white and fluffy smashed,
Into the old tree's trunk.
The Goblins my mind surely reeled,
I knew they would return,
Still I waited there a bit,
For patience is precious I've learned.
But soon my curiosity,
Could no longer be denied,
So I dared to take a peek,
And was surprised at what I'd find.
Three goblins tossing snowballs,
And frolicking merrily,
And in their joy they hadn't seen,
Me hidden behind the tree.
I couldn't help but giggle,
As they tackled the largest one,
I must admit I dearly wished,
To join them in their fun.
But I was here with purpose,
My story needed proof,
And I must get a picture now,
To show my tale is the truth.
Cautiously I swung around
The backside of the tree,
I really hoped with all my heart,
Those fella's wouldn't see.
But they just kept on playing,
With never a worry or care,
And laughing so outrageously,
As the big one yelled No Fair.
I should have snapped the shot just then,
Thats what I should have done,
But I was so enjoying this,
While the goblins had their fun.
I watched them caper through the night,
What fun those fella's were,
They laughed and played with so much joy,
It seemed just so absurd.
But sadly I got careless,
And gave my leg a shift,
Sitting there for oh so long,
Had made the thing quite stiff.
At the sound of snapping twigs,
They knew they weren't alone,
And to my utmost sorrow,
They hurriedly scampered home.
But as the goblins ran away
I shouted don’t be afraid,
I never meant to run you off,
I'd be happy if you stayed.
Yet run they did and didn't look back
And vanished down the street,
But even so I knew for sure,
My night had been complete.
I walked into my house that night,
With a smile in my heart,
That smile quickly faded though,
As I realised with a start.
I forgot to take my pictures,
And I hadn't gotten proof,
So how can I ever expect,
You will know the truth.
Back out I went into the snow,
For the camera was still outside,
And as I neared that big old tree,
A surprise there did I find.
My camera was still lying there,
But also in the snow,
Were three sets of goblin prints,
That set my face aglow.
It seems they had a tunnel,
Dug out of a snowdrift,
And there inside my camera,
Was the goblins little gift,
A single color photo,
Of the goblins and their toy,
Them posing with their snowman,
Ha that filled my heart with joy!
And so today I’ve offered proof,
That goblin thing was true,
I've even showed the world abroad,
That goblins have fun too.
But I'm just happy to have done,
The plan I had conceived,
So that’s all right it truly is,
If you still don't believe.
Picture of one of the Goblins
Poem number 3472
**** Our Hearts ****
Our heart has four chambers,
Each one has a role,
To send blood flow through our body,
Is its most important goal.
Working hard to keep us alive,
While beating in our chest,
Sometimes it works in overdrive,
Our heart it never rests.
Our heart it has another job,
It shows us how to feel,
Yet our circulation robs,
The parts it needs to heal.
We use our heart as a tool,
A device to show us the way,
Yet many times we're made a fool.
And we still choose to stay.
Our heart beats to keep us alive,
And we continue to rip it out,
Poorly circulating blood,
While we internally shout.
Don't take it for granted,
It's working hard every day,
As we take so many chances,
Self-destructing our own way.
**** I’m Just Me****
I don’t strive to be perfect,
That is not who you see,
My only goal i have in life,
is i just try to be me,
If that is not your style,
Do I look as If i really care?
No one said this path in life,
Was really meant to be fair.
You wear your shoes,
And i will wear mine,
They are tattered and worn,
But they will do me just fine.
I am not not running your race,
I have got one of my own,
I am in no hurry,
so leave me alone.
I will get where i am going,
So it may take me some time,
I will set my own pace,
In this old world of mine.
**** Sat Nav ****
I consider myself a motorist,
I like driving in my car,
But with the price of diesel,
I don’t think I’ll be going so far.
Well I got one of these new sat navs,
To tell me where to go,
Along highways and byways
And places I didn’t know.
It’s an amazing little gadget,
It never lets me down,
The problem is the traffic.
Out in the country or in the town.
Everywhere I’m driving,
I know just where I am,
Guided by my satnav,
I’m forever in a jam.
Sitting there for hours,
With my satnav friend.
I think I will leave the satnav
My tether I’m at my end.
Poem number 2006
**** The Banking System ****
Behold the tall and lofty tower,
Your regal looking white skyscraper,
Little minions inside working,
Making it all appear legal on paper.
Making phone calls,
Having meetings,
Pretending that poverty,
Can afford more beatings.
You badger the poor,
And steal their money,
You have fees out the ass,
Like robbing people's funny.
You have fine lines and red tape,
And lawyers cover your asses,
You get away with murder,
And lie to the masses.
To act like your safes,
Will keep our funds secure,
While all your executives,
Plot with hearts so impure.
A den of thieves,
A lair of liars,
Voracious villains,
With your criminal desires.
Power and money,
Lustful greed,
Stealing from the very people,
You so desperately need.
But it will always continue,
Until we have enough as a whole,
So keep up you robberies,
With your hidden fee loopholes.
© January 4th 2024
This poem may be shared with friends or family on social media, but all of the rights remain with and belong to the author John o Donnell (cotter)
It may not be sold, published or used in any way to make a profit without written consent of the owner.
*** Remembering PA Bear****
For people that do not know PA Bear. He was the President of St Eunans College Letterkenny when I was a student there many moons ago. But I remember him like a nightmare 😀😀😀
Im stuck in an abandoned classroom,
On a hard chair with little to no arse room,
Crapping in fear like I was in the bathroom,
Over grown-up stuff in a makeshift staffroom.
There's a priest in front of me with a full figure,
Watching me like I am a sinner,
Watching me intensely like he is a babysitter,
His presence is making me shiver.
He’s got a militant stance like Hi**er,
But still stuck to his chair like a sticker
Clutching his pipe & glass of malt liquor,
Like she is a victor.
I'm sure PA Bear could've felt my shivers,
As this priests face looked stony— borderline bitter,
Sharp and edgy like a mirror,
His stony face reminds me of a serial killer.
I am here against my will,
Come on man spill,
Like what the hell is going on?
You've got me here like I've done something wrong,
What the hell have I done?
This is not my idea of fun,
Sitting here like a mischievous son,
With you like you're about to pop off like a handgun,
Why the hell am I here?
Why are you here?
Are you here to instill fear?
None of this is clear
Why has this priest got me under surveillance?
I am rapidly running out of patience
Me being here is beyond outrageous
With you watching me with every inch of complacence.
So out comes the strap and he gives me 6 of the best.
I can tell you different they were 6 bloody sore slaps,
If I have time some other time I will tell you the rest 😂😂
One for the kids today ****
**** A doggie 🐶 in disguise ****
I was looking in the garden,
And much to my surprise,
Right in front of me,
Was a dog in disguise.
He was wearing little booties,
With his lead in his mouth,
He was pleased as punch,
As he walked up to my house.
So I opened the door,
And said that he could come in,
That he was so welcome,
He stood there with a grin.
Hello little ones,
Yes my name is Frank,
He said he’d come here,
With a prize from the bank.
Now we were winners,
Of a little rocking horse,
He was very tame,
And we’d ride him of course.
I said thank you so much,
He then went on his way,
We went into the garden,
So that we could play.
It’s the first thing I’d won,
Now we had a horse
So to adventures new,
With our ornament of course.
**** Scumbag Bullies****
As I sit and think and try to spill some ink,
Im appearing to face a block,
Not a single line in that scene that night
So I’m opting for a walk!
Im gonna bat the breeze as i walk to the beach,
and I might hear the birds that sing,
and I will live my day in a wishful way,
then it hit me like a bang.
Just like the the thugs that attacked me and punched and kicked me to the ground,
The scars will cure through time that I’m sure.
But you you little scumbags will always be be the two ends of a mother fo**er hoor.
Karma they say will pay you a visit, For your evil deed that night.
I hope I’m living long enough to prove Karma right.
It's almost time to start thinking about the new year. What changes will I make, if any. But instead of that, tonight I'm thinking about how fast those twelve months actually go. It feels like every year, Christmas comes in faster than before. Make the most of your time. Make the most of your loved ones. Count your blessings..
Twelve months.
Twelve months seems like a lifetime, and everyday is new,
But like a steam train, gaining speed, before we know, it's through.
Birthdays and occasions, families, near and far,
If everyone we love is near, it won't matter where we are.
Materials are worthless, when it comes time to light the tree,
For if there is an empty chair, and loved ones we can't see.
Then money won't replace it, pretty ribbons can't mask the pain,
No snowfall will bring joy to you, you'll stand out in the rain.
For the gifts that we desire, have no fancy cards or bows,
They stand here, all around us, giving love that no one knows.
Unconditional and perfect, and we may not always see,
Our families will always be, the gifts around the tree.
Twelve months will come and go again, may we be blessed to still be here,
For it won't be money or materials, that buy us health, let's make it clear.
If you arrive this time next year, and there's no empty chair,
Then you don't need those gifts or gold, your gifts are everywhere.
Hard to believe it’s been 8 long years since I recorded this cover of a Pink Floyd classic. Have a listen and feel free to share it around.
Happy New year.
Hopefully this year I will record my CD.
Mostly original songs and a few covers.
This one & a Van Morrison cover.
Wish You Were Here (Cover) Recorded In The Hills Of Donegal Jan 2015
I was commissioned to write this for the parents of their child that passed away on Christmas Morning. She was interned yesterday30th in Columbia USA 🇺🇸
**** Little Angel in Heaven ****
Oh little child of heaven above,
The one who's heart was filled with love,
The angels they took you far too soon,
For hearts of light shine like the moon,
Your journey here was oh so short,
Though loving hearts are kept in thought,
I'll never forget my little one,
The rainbow bridge is where you belong.
Oh little child with loving eyes,
You touched by heart when by my side,
The world lit up with angelic love,
When your little heart beats up above,
My tears flow like a mighty stream,
For memories left within my dreams,
That once a broken heart shall heal,
When my angel holds me, so it seems.
Oh little child my angel dear,
Please guide my heart away from fear,
That I may find the strength of heart,
To live a life now we're apart,
Show me the light within my dreams,
So that I may stand against my fears,
Then hold me in your loving arms,
For my heart is broken now you're gone.
Oh little child of heaven above,
The one who's heart was filled with love,
The angels, they took you far too soon,
For hearts of light shine like the moon,
Your journey here was oh so short,
Though loving hearts are kept in thought,
I'll never forget my little one,
The rainbow bridge is where you belong.
Oh little child with loving eyes,
You touched by heart when by my side,
The world lit up with angelic love,
When your little heart beats up above,
My tears flow like a mighty stream,
For memories left within my dreams,
That once a broken heart shall heal,
When my angel holds me, so it seems.
Oh little child my angel dear,
Please guide my heart away from fear,
That I may find the strength of heart,
To live a life now we're apart,
Show me the light within my dreams,
So that I may stand against my fears,
Then hold me in your loving arms,
For my heart is broken now you're gone.