I’ve often wished that I could go.
To visit London Town
and other places round about
From “Cork Country Down.”
To wander freely o’er the land;
The miracle of God…
Seeing scars that He has healed
And walk where heroes trod.
Many years have come and gone
Since all the anger stilled.
The fields are green and peace pervades
The land where blood was spilled.
The Drones, the flak, the Shaking Roar
No more assault the shore.
The trains now run on schedule,
Unlike they did before.
The past is not completely gone;
Sure, it cannot be.
Too many ghosts still walk the moors
And swim in from the sea.
They gather at the Briefing Hut
For ‘Target for Tonight.’
They pause, shake hands, and shed a tear
And go out for the fight.
You may ask, and rightly so,
How can I know all this?
After all, I haven’t been
To the land that God has kissed.
I have not seen, nor have I felt
Her breath upon my face.
But I have been, and lived it all
Through friends who took my place.