Rattling buckets at a drain
Sound... though theres noone there
And we ask are we insane?
As an eerie stillness is in the air
But other a take they tell
Of a spectre that does appear
Of a youth who once fell
And drowned while carrying beer
To his home from the village pub
Which he never got to see for he drowned
For he drank most of the beer - theres the rub!
And in waters shallow was found.
So the tale they recount to all
And I, as I was told write in rhyme
Who am I, a poet, them to liars call
For telling the tale sure passes the time!
But should their souls not at peace be
I hope that God to them gives rest
A shiver runs up my spine as I see
These words Ive written with such zest
To record for generations to come
Our history, ledgend, be it fetched or not, far
Its what we were and where were from
All part of what makes us what we are!
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