My heart is still in Ireland
Though I've never e'en been there
My family talks of all the old days
And stories they all share

My father was black Irish
From the North of Ireland
His hair black as starless night
His soul like an Irish band

His mother was Mahoney
Lace curtain Irish bred
Pronounced it always Ma-ha-nee
Upper class she always said

My childhood was full of stories
That all ten brothers of my dad
Regaled us with while drinking beer
None of them were sad

Stories in my adulthood
From cousins, aunts and such
Reminded me how poor they were
None of them had much

But "much" is not what held them close
It was the brotherhood of clan
They died so very young it seems
T'was the heart genes to a man

They all were gone in an instant
While dancing, or some at play
Swimming or chopping wood or
While traveling far away

When St. Paddy's rolls around each year
I can hear the harmonica and drum
Hearing the boot heels pounding rhythm
As around the room they spun

So I am really, truly Irish
And can party with the best
And my one night out for dancing
Puts my heart genes to the test

Joy (




Watch these pages for more poems by Joy.
In the meantime, click the links below for other poems and stories by the authors at Lara's Den.


March Is Nigh

Ode To A Japanese Garden



The Memory Jar

March Roared In

History Of The Shamrock

And.......for many others, click the index image.

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