The Day I Danced Till I Was Sore
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We worked the field from dawn's first light,
til the darkness fell again.
We fought against a biting wind,
Beneath the pummelling rain.
I couldn't feel the turf spade,
to lift another sod.
I would've ate the wheels from off a cart
and devoured the Lamb of God.
Then O'Brien blew the whistle,
such a sweet and saintly sound.
So we trudged our way through sludge and clay,
til we reached the drier ground.
Then into Paddy Duffy's Bar
for a bowl of mutton stew.
Perchance a plate of potato bread,
perhaps a pint or two.
The steam was rising from me,
as the turf was burning high.
My clothes were saturated
but my throat was parched and dry.
Then the pints o' black were flowing
and the craic was pure as gold.
Someone chanted "Waxie's Dargle",
as I drank with young and old.
Outside the wind was howling fierce,
the rain had turned to sleet.
A deathly cloud did the world enshroud,
like an undertaker's sheet.
Then Mickey Marley's mongrel cur,
came scratching at the door
and the landlord finally bade him in,
though it grieved him awful sore.
I sang with Bridie Gallagher,
I fought with Tommy Strong.
I shared a prayer with Father Kerr,
a dozen rosaries long.
I felt God's blessings resting on me
and my lot was true and fair,
so I took a chance and begged a dance,
from the girl with the fiery hair.
She was young and she was slender,
her legs were long and fine.
Beneath her hair of burning gold,
her eyes did spark and shine.
She seemed to spin a wondrous loom,
with me her cotton thread
but as the wee hours took their toll,
I was counted with the dead.
The auld dog he lay sleeping
but every now and then,
his lip would curl, his limbs would twitch,
as he went chasing rabbits through the glen.
Then quietly she came to me,
on that bleak and baleful night.
As turf collapsed like breaking bones,
we kept the fire alight...
...Slowly I come back again,
to our little bench in Central Park,
where winter nights are closing in
and soon I'll face the dark.
So I reach my hand to hold you,
just to touch what still is mine.
Your golden hair, now silver grey,
though your eyes still dance and shine.
And I long once more for Donegal
and that storm of fifty four.
The greatest day I ever lived,
the day I danced till I was sore.
til the darkness fell again.
We fought against a biting wind,
Beneath the pummelling rain.
I couldn't feel the turf spade,
to lift another sod.
I would've ate the wheels from off a cart
and devoured the Lamb of God.
Then O'Brien blew the whistle,
such a sweet and saintly sound.
So we trudged our way through sludge and clay,
til we reached the drier ground.
Then into Paddy Duffy's Bar
for a bowl of mutton stew.
Perchance a plate of potato bread,
perhaps a pint or two.
The steam was rising from me,
as the turf was burning high.
My clothes were saturated
but my throat was parched and dry.
Then the pints o' black were flowing
and the craic was pure as gold.
Someone chanted "Waxie's Dargle",
as I drank with young and old.
Outside the wind was howling fierce,
the rain had turned to sleet.
A deathly cloud did the world enshroud,
like an undertaker's sheet.
Then Mickey Marley's mongrel cur,
came scratching at the door
and the landlord finally bade him in,
though it grieved him awful sore.
I sang with Bridie Gallagher,
I fought with Tommy Strong.
I shared a prayer with Father Kerr,
a dozen rosaries long.
I felt God's blessings resting on me
and my lot was true and fair,
so I took a chance and begged a dance,
from the girl with the fiery hair.
She was young and she was slender,
her legs were long and fine.
Beneath her hair of burning gold,
her eyes did spark and shine.
She seemed to spin a wondrous loom,
with me her cotton thread
but as the wee hours took their toll,
I was counted with the dead.
The auld dog he lay sleeping
but every now and then,
his lip would curl, his limbs would twitch,
as he went chasing rabbits through the glen.
Then quietly she came to me,
on that bleak and baleful night.
As turf collapsed like breaking bones,
we kept the fire alight...
...Slowly I come back again,
to our little bench in Central Park,
where winter nights are closing in
and soon I'll face the dark.
So I reach my hand to hold you,
just to touch what still is mine.
Your golden hair, now silver grey,
though your eyes still dance and shine.
And I long once more for Donegal
and that storm of fifty four.
The greatest day I ever lived,
the day I danced till I was sore.
Last edited by rupertpupkin on January 30th, 2015, 3:47 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
Geez Sean and I remember this one all too well and woulda though some allowance for cultural contrivance and idioms. It is a bonnie bit of artistry (did I say that right and proper?). Still a magnificent piece and the change was flawless. Another bookmark since I just learned how to do that - Dan
OH - "...cocked his leg up in the air" is gone now (the first word was censored). Lifted his leg would have bypassed the silliness, cheers!
OH - "...cocked his leg up in the air" is gone now (the first word was censored). Lifted his leg would have bypassed the silliness, cheers!
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
This poem is pure delight and the way in which you tell the story whilst keeping perfect rhythm and flow is nothing short of miraculous.There is a real homely feel to this,with the cosy pub and the famous dark stout flowing.A truly epic write and many thanks for sharing.
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
Sean - I've got some ideas if you ever need another re-write (title included especially), and would be much pleased to hang onto your flapping coat tails, cheers! - Dan
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
Wher'd my reply go? Trying again. Sean - I've got some ideas for your next posting that requires conformity to Her Majesty's Rules (title included). Contented to ride your shirt tails into immortality, cheers - Dan!
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
would love that.go ahead and post it here.thanks.Sean.
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
I remember reading and enjoying the original, when did the dog did something...else lol. I didn't find that any of the corrections affected the overall piece in any way. It maintains the vivid descriptions of nostalgia that left me feeling as though I had been there singing, and brawling. This was again very much enjoyed.
"Writing is a struggle against silence." ~Carlos Fuentes
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
Considered "died" in lieu of "slipped" - but probably too maudlin and a distraction from the rest of the lovely reminiscence, cheers Sean!
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
A great narrative that kept its momentum all the way through. I loved the "folksy" style of the poem that contained all the elements of real humorous story telling,-- belly laughs with a touch of pathos..Every line worth the Spotlight. Congratulations!!
Norman
Norman
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
This wonderful piece brought back some happy memories and had me from start to finish it was so well written. I've cut a bit of turf in Donegal,years ago. Congratulations
- songofmeadow
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
Hi Sean, you can certainly tell a tale, the storytelling technique made me feel involved in the atmosphere, the speaker's voice infectious, very well deserved spotlight mx
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
This is such an enjoyable read, I love the ballad style of poetry when it's done as well as this because it seems to close to the roots of poetry with the use of memorable phrases and rhymes, in a lilting and rhythmic form, that it becomes infectious. I had a mate from Donegal during my uni days, so I just ran through it with his accent in my mind and it added to the sense of authenticity. The unbridled joy of the poem feels like a testament to a great night out!
Much enjoyed, and congratulations on the spotlight!
Much enjoyed, and congratulations on the spotlight!
- Larsen M. Callirhoe
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
First let me state congrats on the Spotlight choice for this is very well written and very well thought out. I feel like you spent a great deal of time on this piece to get just the right frame of mind as one reads the narrators words in this piece. Yes Sean I have to admit this did crack a smile on my face. I think someone wrote this sounded like a well tuned ballad of some sort and I have to agree because the second thought that came to mind was this was a ballad that sounded like a shout out to Davy Jones locker or Casey Jones strikeout because this is how well you lft an impression to persuade my thoughts. I am sorry I missed the first go at it with this piece because I would have enjoyed it for sure since I could see the slight mild humor in this piece. So thank you for sharing Sean, really really enjoyed... and again congrats on the well deserved spotlight....
vicror
vicror
Victor Mike Lash~
Larsen M. Callirhoe~
All My Poetry Works
Miscellaneous Pieces:
Visions of My Sanity.
Wrestling Gods
Larsen M. Callirhoe~
All My Poetry Works
Miscellaneous Pieces:
Visions of My Sanity.
Wrestling Gods
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
hi. just a last minute thank you to everyone who commented.thank you so much. sean.
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Re: The Day The Auld Dog Slipped On The Floor
Congratulations on the well-earned spotlight, Sean, this was such a delight to read, dear (though I understand that you had to do some "editing" to the original in order for it to pass the TPS censors - I would have loved to have read the original version!)... Cheers!
Kathy
Kathy