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Tick tock, tick tock and other poems

About Tick tock, tick tock and other poems

In her 92nd year, Bridie has published a selection of her poems. They're filled with typical Gaelic humour and express her faith, loves and losses. Bridie O'Connor was born in 1925 in Ballinasloe, Ireland. She moved to England in 1960, where she raised her four sons. She returned home in 2002. She now lives in Clonberne, close to friends and family and some of her 15 grandchildren. This is her rst book of poetry. There are 38 poems in this volume, including: The Homestead I walked that rugged boreen that once I knew so well In search of kith and kin, a story I ached to tell The scent of bog land heather, the familiar fragrance hit my nose My heart so full of sorrow, can I trace them, no one knows. No sign of that old thatched cottage, my Camelot so serene That boyish curiosity haunted me but nobody could be seen In the distant backdrop I saw the verdant greenwood Some cattle grazed the upland while others chewed the cud. I bowed my head to my family who lived a simple life In their little whitewashed haven, a farmer and his wife They opened up the half-door to people one and all My joyful youth was magical. Now I'm glad I made that call.

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  • Language:
  • English
  • ISBN:
  • 9781911079699
  • Binding:
  • Hardback
  • Pages:
  • 48
  • Published:
  • November 3, 2016
  • Dimensions:
  • 216x140x6 mm.
  • Weight:
  • 200 g.
Delivery: 2-3 weeks
Expected delivery: March 9, 2025

Description of Tick tock, tick tock and other poems

In her 92nd year, Bridie has published a selection of her poems. They're filled with typical Gaelic humour and express her faith, loves and losses.
Bridie O'Connor was born in 1925 in Ballinasloe, Ireland. She moved to England in 1960, where she raised her four sons. She returned home in 2002. She now lives in Clonberne, close to friends and family and some of her 15 grandchildren. This is her rst book of poetry.
There are 38 poems in this volume, including:
The Homestead
I walked that rugged boreen that once I knew so well
In search of kith and kin, a story I ached to tell
The scent of bog land heather, the familiar fragrance hit my nose My heart so full of sorrow, can I trace them, no one knows.
No sign of that old thatched cottage, my Camelot so serene
That boyish curiosity haunted me but nobody could be seen
In the distant backdrop I saw the verdant greenwood
Some cattle grazed the upland while others chewed the cud.
I bowed my head to my family who lived a simple life
In their little whitewashed haven, a farmer and his wife
They opened up the half-door to people one and all
My joyful youth was magical. Now I'm glad I made that call.

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