Archive for March 16th, 2006

Yes, there really is a Signal Street in downtown Rochester, and stopped at a gated crossing, I thought of the inevitable.

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack,
rumblin’ down the railroad track,
loaded cars with screeching wheels,
round the bend on roads of steel.

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack.
We used to stand by the railroad track,
hand in hand, my boy and me,
and watch as far as the eye could see.

My boy’s a railroad man these days,
with a railman’s build, and a railman’s ways,
an eagle eye on every gauge —
earning a railman’s honest wage.

I’m proud of what my boy’s become;
I’m glad his dream never came undone.
But now, when I hear that clickety-clack,
I wonder if he’ll ever come back,

And standing hand in hand with me,
look ahead as far as the eye can see.
So I sit and watch the train go slow,
and remember those days of long ago —
hand in hand, my boy and me,
watching as far as the eye could see.

copyright 2006 by Meg Lark

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How Irish Am I, Anyway??

You’re not Irish. Not even a wee bit.
Not even on St. Patrick’s Day!
<a href="How Irish Are You?

That’s a relief.

Actually, I’m half Irish, on my mother’s side — probably not even half, if you count the fact that one of my great-grandmothers was German — but it’s not something I brag about, particularly. In my experience, never a truer word was spoke than, “The Irish: They’d rather fight than feed,” and I have no excuse for debate-for-the-sake-of-debate.

But this was a fun test, and I bet most people test more Irish than I did!

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