High on a hill with a wonderful view

Above a chapel, so serene

A place I loved ..

When in my teens.

 

Daytime cries of mugs, my own

‘That’s my bogie! Leave it alone!

Do you want a sweet? Do you want a spin?’

‘No! I’ll see you tonight! I gotta go in.’

 

Red brick gleaming in a dying sun

Casting shadows as the day is done

Subtle shades of gold and green

Along the row

They can be seen.

 

Night-time children out in the street

Swing on a lamp-post, kicking up their feet

Laughing at mothers trying to get them in

With high-pitched cries of

‘Where have you been?’

 

Upstairs lights start flickering on

With shouts of, ‘Get to bed!

It won’t be long till your Da’s home!’

Well that was it! ‘nuff said.

 

Each brick could tell a story

Of the families, who passed through

Who lived and loved and died there

In O’Neill Avenue.