Tribute To A Whitegateman.As I sit here in Dublin,
My mind, it goes back,
To the days of my childhood,
The joy and the craic,
But a sadness comes o'er me,
As I take in the scene,
And my thoughts go to Whitegate,
And up the Boreen.
Gone are the people,
I knew as a youth.
The McCarthys, the Clancys
And Fred and May Hewitt.
But my heart really breaks
When I get to the top,
The house is deserted;
John Bennett's closed shop.
His soul it departed,
And came before God,
Who said, "Heaven to you John,
Is a gun and a rod.
Your body lies buried,
'Neath six feet of clay,
But you've now got free travel,
'Tween Inch and White Bay."
I think of him now,
As I sit for a while,
How he taught me to fish,
'Neath the Fort on Carlisle.
In Hartnett's top field,
He taught me to shoot,
With a .22 rifle,
Our target,------a boot!
God reward you , John Bennett;
'Twas oft as a lad,
I knocked on your door,
And as Madge called out, "Dad,"
My heart leaped with joy,
"Adventure was free,
And life was for living,"
That's what you taught me.