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No Tales Out of School

Tullamore in County Offaly
Tullamore in County Offaly. Nearby in Clara, the twin mystries of the boy of the Touhys death in the canal that is officially suicide but family say no, to the death of Fr Molloy remain unsatisfactorily resolved, with eerie similarities to the Mary Boyle case in Donegal. Tullamore is also the town of Fiona Pender, missing from this street for near twenty years. The offical story on these cases are not revealing any answers which makes folk wonder is the official story wrong?

In days of old if you were bold
Or not, and got yourself slapped by the rule
Your parents you never told as they would not scold
But slap you again for getting punished in school.

You – you kept mum, you kept schtum…
Such a foundation in society was laid,
Though it was not to blame, it was the same
Those who talk, of consequences are afraid.

Life was hard, every town was Granard
Its secrets to itself is kept
Its shame they hid, no one knew but all did
On uneasy consciences all slept.

From the women unfound to abortions underground
And the women who died from them
To hide the shame that would come to the name
So kill the kid, lets not talk of them.

Some fools speak loud it should be allowed
Women it will sexually liberate:
Why not end the shame of baby carried when mother is unmarried
How can new life leave a woman in sinful state?

To the children abused for whom justice was refused
Those in power protected
So far from justice removed, the guilty moved
A facade of piety and purity erected.

Sure we danced and romanced when given the chance
To the music of distraction howing at full and new moons
Families from embarrassment must be protected as theyd be affected
If such was said… society says keep on playing the spoons…

Boys in canals found, the story around
Official: he took his own life
Relationship unapproved, so far from normality removed
Brought on the boys family such strife.

Everyone asks for them to be found, rumors abound
Thats the last thing that is wanted
No tales out of school is the general rule
The innocent dead are not counted.

The official story may hide a truth gory
It might not be sectarian, but of class
A thinking we find still exists in some minds
Hurrahs come from the braying of an ass.

Mystics are called, the public enthralled
Read of visions of buildings of arches
All look around, yet nothing is found
To spite all campaign and bridges and marches.

Ireland of history. island of mystery,
Everyone knows, yet still no one
Dawns come and go, no one says so
So the decades long have gone.

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