The Snows Of Yesteryear

It's "Bikefest" again in Killarney, it seems to be circling around me, or I've been circling around it, like a bird around a motorbike. I've no bother with the bikes, but about as much interest in them as a bird. I did get a provisional bike license at one point, but those plans came to naught. I once had visions of myself hurdling along the wild atlantic way, but they dissipated like the snows of yesteryear.

It was Bikefest weekend five years ago when I first hummed the melody to "In My Own Country." If I remember correctly, I was waiting for a friend who was ensconced in the dole office. The song will be on the album "Where Splendour Falls," which is going to print as we speak. Dispensing with Cds, I'm having 250 vinyl records of it printed. "In My Own County" is the first track on the second side...

                                       

 

In my own country I am in a far off land,
I am strong but have no force or power,
I win all yet remain a loser.
At break of day I say goodnight,
When I lie down I have great fear of falling.


I die of thirst beside the fountain,
I never work, Oh but how I labour.
I laugh in tears and hope in despair,
I'm sure of nothing, but what's uncertain,
I'm hot as fire shivering in the flames.