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Cinema Long Ago
    2) Kerry Long Ago
    3) Kenmare’s Ballroom of Romance
    4) Travellers in by gone days
    5) The Train from Headford to Kenmare
    6) The 15th of August Kenmare

CINEMA OF LONG AGO
    The pictures were all black and white in the cinema in our town,
    We sat on timber planks,in later years,seats soft and round,
    ‘There was many a breakdown through out the night,
    The lads would shout and bang
    Some would prance and kick around and often times they sang.
    But the soft red seats brought trouble,
    an invasion of hopping things,
    Not the Germans or the Russians but fleas as big as tins.
    We ate “ bulls eyes and peggy’s legs” and ice cream all in cones,
    As we watched a thousand Indians beaten by one cowboy lone.
    1 never could really fathom that, as we held our breaths in awe
    That hundreds of those arrows missed the cowboy large and tall.
    Yet all around the Indians fell as fast as flies at night.
    One mighty shot from a cowboy’s gun, they all fell down and died.
    Ah how we loved dear Chaplain in the silent movies grand
    We wondered at his charisma, he drove the women mad.
    But passing years brought changes,
    improved films in sight and sound
    With lights in multi colours and a lady walking round
    With tray filled up with chocolates, popcorn, and drinks so neat
    The prices too gave one big leap and the fleas all disappeared.
    Twas many the happy couple sat in the back seat holding hands
    Gazing at Clark Gable , he set all our hearts abang.
    Jane Russell, too, and Marilyn, brought many a sigh and gasp,
    Ah, how the. young boys loved them, and likewise did their Dads.
    But progress may be brilliant, in the cinema goer’s world,
    But give me the old dark film house with its
    musty smell and curtains.
    To some its pictures were so real, they believed behind that veil,
    Were horses . strong and cowboys and girls all fine and hail
    The film house is gone ,Alas, replaced by a building high
    We often laughed and clapped with glee,
    and many the time we cried.
    Nostalgia is a terrible thing, it brings thoughts of pain and joy
    its like being in a time machine ,
    and roam back past years and time.
    When we were then teenagers. and thought we’d ne’er grow old.
    But to the youngsters. of to day ,I say, your day will come a Stor.
    When You’ll be not as sprightly and may suffer pains and cold,
    But from seed to bud to full grown tree, the world will stroll along
    And baby grows to adulthood, by the river of life he trods,
    Then falls asleep in the ocean of the fatherly love of God.

KERRY LONG AGO
    The fair day in my native town
    Was fun for young and old.
    The traveling people came in droves,
    With lame horses and piebald colts.
    Their women folk with babies fat,
    Wrapped in their shawls of black.
    “Give us a penny for the child
    And God will guide your track.”
    But woe betide, if you said “No”
    You’d hear a different tale.
    The devil’s curse would be showered on you
    “May your children end up in jail,
    May you die for want of water,
    You scrawny mean old man,
    In a pauper’s grave may you lie
    Without priest or prayer at hand.”
    But should you help the traveller.
    Such praise you were sure to get
    “May the good Lord reward you kindly,
    You’ll be lucky Sir, I bet.
    May you never want for comfort
    Or a friend to soothe your pain
    And may you go to Heaven”
    Is the traveling woman’s prayer.
    We watched them buying and selling,
    Ah! ’twas fun on that fair day,
    The jobbers all looked big and strong,
    Big boots so tightly laced.
    And farmers and their gorsoons,
    Blackthorn sticks in hand,
    Those fine young men in Wellingtons,
    With their healthy country tan.
    How much for that scrawny skeleton
    Says the jobber to the boy.
    Pointing to a fine young copper colt,
    With shining teeth and eyes.
    “A hundred guineas, Sir,” says he
    “You’ll ne’er get better than that,”
    “You’re joking,” says the Jobber
    “It’s no bigger than a Persian cat.”
    For half an hour or maybe more,
    Insults