And When I'm Past

And when I'm past what will they say?

No knee on cap to “kneel and pray”

My dust will travel leagues away

To Lough Ree’s sheltered shore.

My path will pass the steel red bridge

Where Daltons left their last cream fridge

Two round bales on Ryan’s ridge

Where Michael swam no more.

They’ll claim that I was good for nought

Who never once did what I ought

And for the wrong cause always fought

And fought in vain.

It will all be above my hairless head

When I’m well and truly dead

I’ll slumber in eternal bed

My tent the grass, my bath the rain.

What legacy will I leave behind?

To benefit others of my kind

That they’ll remember time out of mind

When I’ve passed on.

There won’t be riches to be spent

No guinea, florin or red cent

No paying back of what I’ve spent

My assets truly gone.

Yet when I’m gone like Peters ass

My green will still be hue of grass

The leaves will still salute my pass

On stream of breeze.

A sentry still in drain and dike

The chain on Seanin’s Nellie bike

The flash on belly of proud pike

Valves in old TV’s.

I’ll see them then, I’ll see them all

The hags and bandits, big and small

From lichen on Dan Connors wall

At Ballymulvey bog,

I’ll read their thoughts and see their shame

And watch them relegate the blame

To other cowards, timid, tame

Those demons in the fog.

And when I'm past my lines will live

And seep through pores of human sieve,

No favours ask, no quarter give

To squatter, saint or squire.

If I can guide them from above

I'll point the way with spectral glove

For only care is born of love,

I know this from the men behind the wire.

I'll ride the wind, I'll be the wind,

They'll all know well that I have sinned

From all the cherries I've untinned

And thrown in the dust.

Heavenly gravel I will spread

Or ashes of a bloody red

They wont know if I am dead

Or walking with the just.

And then I'll see the total truth,

Who played the game or stuck the boot,

Who paid their dues or took the loot

From him who could not pay,

Transparent will be each low life

Backstabbing with the traitors knife

Who wronged his neighbour and his wife

Yet knelt with men to pray.

I'll meet again with friend and foe

With Ned and Nan and 'Comie' Joe

and Mikeen in the come and go

in land of country song,

I'll see Tom Yorke and Annie May

Bill Percival heading cocks of hay,

and Mickeen Keegan in a play

where all men sing along.

My gansey will be pure new wool

My whiskey tumbler always full

My servent will be called John Bull

Just for the blast,

I'll send a telegram from the sky

When you see rain, pretend I cry,

We'll be meeting in the by and by

That's when I'm past.