When young, or younger for I still am young
I thought that my future it was to be
As it was then for my father
Upon the bog, working, laying rails like he
For locos of peat going to power the station
Summer after summer in the searing heat
Sundays and all, overtime and comradery
In Killeens Bar after work friends would meet
Every man must “change the cheque” by the way
To have a drink with friends seized any excuse
For that is life, and a good life it was
If not to enjoy life, what for is works use?
Men paid mortgages, for them the company
Built houses, estates, gave life to towns
Suchlike two way loyalty is not seen now
Globalisationist capitalism on it frowns
And for it for all they said, we are all the poorer
The factories proved to be a false dream
That lured the farmers from the land
To an illusion where all not what it does seem
Yes the money may have been more at times
But of work no man was to be sure
And when the factories left for Eastern Europe
We, who made them profitable, the workers were left poor,
The lucky ones sported what little they had
The fools invested in mortgages and homes
And the workers desperate scramble to survive
Ensued, as the bosses lined their thrones
On slave labour of ex-communist workers
Who temporarily thought themselves rich
Until prices rose outstripping their wages
And Goddess Capitalism shrugged: “Lifes a B***h!”
Now, as a parkland is the bog, now cutaway
And with an entire way of life is gone
When without grants, through work and sacrifice we survived
Though there was not work for everyone
Few were in debt, and you could emigrate
As much as for work, to see the world wide
Before coming home, building a home, your dream
To retire when old, at your own fireside
Modern reality now says gone are those days
The IMF our future dictates
And the EU, on whom we’re made dependant
That rules for the stronger states
Who fund it all, and when we are down
Like now, tell us what to do
Fir their benefit, not for our citizens
Our rights in our own land now are few
Environmental laws from Europe
Reason behind which we cant understand
Means that we are not allowed
Automatically by ownership to build on our own land
But we have to ask permission
Like from the Landlords, now gone, of old
Who’d automatically have approved, but now
That were denied the right were often told.
Its a changing world, in which man is smaller
And an Irishman in his own land smallest of all
Just get on with it, we are told by the system
Who bring American presidents to lead the call.
Will our grandchildren, in their time
Tour an industrial estate as I the bog
Preserved as the peat is for the partridge
By the EU for a snail, bird or frog?
And when all the bogs and farms and factories are gone
What at will they work at to live?
And feed their offspring with decreasing dole?
What future for them does Globalisation give?
=============================
Read more poems by Tomás
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing
