The Ghost Of O'donahue

This is the calendar

These are the dates

You know you'll be, you won't know what you'll see

The routes might change so all that remains

Is the pull from place to place

We left our homes in the spring sunshine

Things came alive when I knew they weren't mine

Falling in line didn't matter at all

We knew we'd go when we each heard the call

This is the calendar

These are the dates

You know you'll be, you won't know what you'll see

The routes might change so all that remains

Is the pull from place to place

The pylons found fault lines to run through the heart

The heart of the land beat with odd fits and starts

So they ran round the oldest and grey of the hills

So as to let the old die without power or pills

This is the calendar

These are the dates

You know you'll be, you won't know what you'll see

The routes might change so all that remains

Is the pull from place to place

Dublin to Cork though you never heard told

There's a line of good men with eyes wet and bold

Where they weep for the crows bearing twigs for the nest

Changing the shape of the trees they loved best

This is the calendar

These are the dates

You know you'll be, you won't know what you'll see

The routes might change so all that remains

Is the pull from place to place

The ghost of O'Donahue scared not the lad

Who in desert respect lost the smile he borne glad

Sat quite chief and folorn and pitched with the spectre

Escaped all exhaustions and prayers from the rector

And with glancing devout pulled a frown from his sack

Weighed with loaves from the oven and ale from the rack

This is the calendar

These are the dates

You know you'll be, you won't know what you'll see

The routes might change so all that remains

Is the pull from place to place

In the last days of my life

Oh I won't know whether to laugh or cry