Derry Summers

Just a boy of 15 years,
Still wet behind the ears,
confused about right and wrong,
a restless mind, in a rush to find,
a place where I belonged,
grew up quick and tough,
those London streets were rough,
and I just wanted to break free,
Autumn went and summer came,
and I got on a plane,
and flew across the Irish sea,
those hot and dusty days,
we spent making hay,
those are the times I grieve,
hitching lifts, always on the drift,
just like a feather in the breeze,
Derry summers coming 'round,
Derry summers,green and brown,
Derry summers, coming' round,
melting tarmac stuck,
to every car and truck,
that passed my outstretched arm,
farmers spreading slurry,
rabbits in a hurry,
mad dogs barking on a farm,
I had traveled far,
slept beneath the stars,
in soft meadows where I dreamed,
and watched my life,
unfolding in the sky,
just like a movie on a screen,
wore down my heels,
through patchwork fields,
as I wound along the lanes,
and the joy I felt, when at last I smelled,
the turf on grannies range,
Derry summers coming 'round,
Derry summers, green and brown,
Derry summers coming' round,

Derry summers, passed me by,

2010. C.F.Nuallain

Written by Kfn185 (C.F.Nuallain)
Author's Note
Childhood memories of summer holidays in Ireland. Where I would hitch hike from County Westmeath up to County Derry
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