Nowhere to Hide
We are teenagers
We live in an age of Instagram and Snapchat
Of mobile phones and social media
Wherever we go it’ll always be there
The people we try to get away from
The words we try to get away from
The pictures we try to get away from
Will always be there
Every time we go on our phones
They are there taunting us
We can’t get away from them
They are always there.
We have nowhere to hide
My Dear Horse
I come from a tough generation,
Where everything is about appearance,
You feel trapped in social media and everyday life,
But I am one of the lucky ones,
The ones who have something to get away to.
I got my horse at home, who is always there after the day has been tough,
She helps me take a breath, find myself,
Get away from the pressure of everything I face.
She’s my safe place, my home, my one getaway
And I will forever be grateful for my dear horse,
Who saved me from being swallowed by the generation that is our own.
Keeping it Country
Keeping it country in the west,
Fields are green aren’t we blessed,
Bales are made and turf brought in,
Sun is shining, Tis a win-win,
Myself, Tim, Paul and John,
Call to the house, Maureen has the fry on,
Going flat out through the night,
Loads are big and roads are tight,
Whether it’s silage or whether it’s hay,
There will be money-making all day.
Out in the fields all day
Will it be silage or will it be hay
Round bales or square bales what will we make
How many hours will we take
Flat out with all the raking
A summer full of money making
Making bales and enjoying it
The long draw to the silage pit
Twas Friday midnight and all through the town,
Lads were walking around flexing their frowns,
Straight out of the disco acting the hardy buck,
However on the pull, the hadn’t had much luck.
Into mammy’s car, all the lads were quiet,
Knowing if she asked anything they would start a riot,
‘Did ye have a nice night boys?’ she pleasantly said,
When they got to Supermacs the boys all fled
My sport is rough it makes me tough.
Broken and bruised, it’s what I do.
Every day is a different fight; I look forward to it each night.
Tackling is the game and scars are the pain,
To have muscles and strength I’d go to any length.
To play for Munster would be my dream,
It would be an honour to get on that team.
My Ideal Wife
My ideal wife will be happy to cook and clean,
She’ll be a dacent beour and mad for craic,
She’ll only cook me meat of lean,
And we’ll live in a mighty shack
It Doesn’t Matter
I was born in Sheffield
Moved to Clare when I just turned one
I had already moved more than half my class
But it was something I was proud of.
Instead of being ashamed, I decided to support.
Traveled back and forth to support The Owls.
While traveling Ireland to support Clare.
I always remember it’s not the place that matters it’s the people I’m surrounded by.
The second I run in the door,
I’ve already switched on the PS4
Create a class, equip the M4
Then I load up a game of ground war.
Aniyah Palace, we’ve already lost C
Spawn in, instantly sniper by the AX-50
Spawn again, killed by an ATV
I’m going on to Siege.
Within these four prison walls
I look outside at what surrounds
And see the lads with the footballs
They all have different backgrounds
I stare right at the clock
Waiting for when it will stop
I just want to go home
To see my garden gnome
The wind roaring in the morning
I’m still in bed snoring
I here my mother mourning
The day ahead
In the Morning
I wake up in the morning
And hear the tractor roaring
I am instantly moaning
And smell the sausages oh I am starving
I ate the sausages
I haven’t ate em in ages
When I go outside to feed the dogs
For god sakes woman get back inside the house