| 
           
        TO GOLADUFF
        
         By 
        Lee Havens Tinneny 
         
        
         The plan was made; the
        day was set; to Goladuff we'd go; 
        The Tinnenys and the 'Blow-ins' had roots to seek and show.
        
         The grand appointed day
        had come; our goals we soon would fix; 
        A Sunday afternoon, the ninth of June, of 1996.
        
         We dressed the part of
        adventurers and headed for the lough; 
        Across we'd go from Quivvy shore; at Gola we would dock.
        
         Neilie rowed the Tinneny
        boat; the course was very sure; 
        Twas Maisie, Josie, Richard and Lee who stepped on Gola's shore.
        
         The wind it blew, no
        rain came down so Neilie headed back; 
        To go and fetch the others; sure, Michael took the track.
        
         Hubert rowed the second
        time and Bunty swam beside; 
        Susanna, too, now made the trip; it was an easy ride.
        
         We stepped and strode
        way up the hill; we chattered all the way. 
        There was no doubt, no question asked, this was a special day!
        
         Returning to the
        Homeplace ground, our roots we knew would soon be found. 
        Up through the lane, before so clear, now covered by yews and
        moss, so drear.
        
         The shell of the house
        before us arose with walls propped up; no thatch exposed. 
        The Homeplace, once fine as any around, seemed destined a death,
        down to the ground. 
         The briars, the ivy, the
        nettles too, all whispered to us... 
        "Stay away! Go! Shoo!"
        
         We wouldn't relent, our
        intentions were pure. 
        We'd dig up the ground and poke all around; the past it still
        did lure.
        
         The bottles, the pots,
        the locks and the hinges, 
        Gave out with memories, joys and sad twinges.
        
         The history was there
        down deep and on top. 
        We knew that our hunting would not stop.
        
         Laughter, stories,
        photos and the like; 
        Set us moving toward our next strike.
        
         There Francis' and
        Patrick's wee houses not far; 
        But part of the Tinneny's historical star. 
         We trod in the muck, the
        mud and the mire; 
        But never did mind it, nor did we tire.
        
         We'd been with the past
        on Goladuff hills; 
        We'd been with each other; such a joy...such a thrill! 
         
        
         Reproduced
        with permission of 
         LeeTinneny 
		 
          |