MORE TALES

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Near the banks of River Corrib, where it flows to Galway Bay,
There’s an overlook that holds a local legend.
Of a young man bound for Boston and the girl he’d loved for years, 
And the morning when he asked her for her hand.
     He was smiling as he got down on his knees;
     She was crying as she listened to him plead …
     A plaintive plea:  “Oh, darling please” … 
Come with me … down our river.     Come with me … out to sea.
Come with me … across the ocean.    And we’ll be free … We’ll be free.

But the fates were set against them, for her family disapproved …
Of this orphan boy who’d grown up in the “dock-sides.” 
They said he had no education.  He was godless and a fool.
He could never make a good home for their child.
     She was afraid to break away from Father’s grasp … 
     Or refuse to do whatever Mother tasked … 
     So she said “No … I can’t.” ... when he asked … 
Come with me … down our river.     Come with me … out to sea.
Come with me … across the ocean.    And we’ll be free … We’ll be free

Sometimes families are like forests:  tangled branches; tangled roots;
Holding fast to their traditions and religion.
Until later generations … seek out something new …
And follow their own dreams … and plans.
     In the night, she’d lie awake a-top her bed …
     Listening to his gentle voice inside her head …
     While she re-read … the letter that he’d sent …
Come with me … down our river.     Come with me … out to sea.
Come with me … across the ocean.    And we’ll be free … We’ll be free.  

Several years passed, and this young man – now a carpenter by trade – 
Saved his money and returned to Galway Bay 
He was resolved to wed his true love; bring her with him to the States. 
Build a house … and raise a family … some day.  
     She was waiting for him, waving at her door.
     He was trembling like he’d never done before. 
     Then she said “Yes!”… … when he asked once more … 
Come with me … down our river.     Come with me … out to sea.
Come with me … across the ocean.    And we’ll be free … We’ll be free.

Allison thomas

Allison Thomas, an old friend of mine. The first time we met she was only a child. Each day at the mill, we worked the same shift. And sometimes I’d walk her back home up the hill. She lived with her father in a one-bedroom shack. Her mother had died about seven years back. She worked at the Mill since before she was nine. She never learned to read; she never learned to write.
And sometimes I noticed a bruise on her neck — a black and blue eye … or a limp. She never would tell me just what had occurred. She acted as if she had sinned. And then one day she told me about him …
He lost every job; he fought all the time. He spent all their money on whiskey & wine. This brute of a father abused her each day. For all of his problems – he said she was to blame.
She told the police of the things that he did, but they laughed and they told her: “It’s only discipline … A father has rights, and you’re still his child … If you want you can leave. If you want you can hide.”

“But each time that I leave, he just comes after me. And he drags me back home by my hair. As if I’m in prison — I simply give in — It’s gotten so’s I just don’t care. ”

Then Allison Thomas whispered to me — “I can’t even mention the worst."
“The things that he does to my body at night — I feel just as if I’ve been cursed.”

* * *

Nineteen eleven – Upstate New York – the trial only lasted a day. She had no attorney. The evidence was clear. The Judge only asked her, what did she have to say? She said that her father had threatened her life. He’d beat her and broken her nose and her teeth. And each time she left him – he always brought her back. And so she was forced to stab him in his sleep.
The Judge was astonished – with no sympathy. “That’s not self-defense – that’s murder!” said he.
“You can’t simply kill a man in his sleep. You had time to run or call the police.”

“But each time that I leave, he just comes after me. And he drags me back home by my hair. As if I’m in prison — I simply give in — It’s gotten so’s I just don’t care. ”

Poor Allison Thomas, alone and afraid — She never revealed that her father had raped her. She swore me to silence: “Take it to the grave.” She wanted to hide her horror and her shame. She’d rather be in prison, or even be hung, then to have the world know … what her father had done.

Allison Thomas, I saw her last week. She finally learned how to write and how to read. There’s hope for the future … her pain’s in the past … Although she’s in prison, … she’s found … peace … at last.

friend of the family

A rainy night at the Greyhound Station, I just arrived from San Antone.
It’s been a year since I’ve been here, but even blind I can find my way home.
A birthday present for a beautiful girl … just turning seven
And she’s living in a beautiful world … almost heaven.
And I’m allowed to see my child tonight – as a friend of the family.
I get to be at her party tonight — introduced, as a friend of the family.

A rainy night seven years ago – out of money, and out of work
Doctor bills piled high – my pretty wife about to give birth
Two friends and a sawed off shotgun – we tried to rob a convenience store.
All we got was a hundred dollars. And, in the end, we got caught. We got caught.
Now I’m allowed to see her once a year – as a friend of the family
She doesn’t know why I’m really here – I’m just a friend of the family
Just a friend — a friend of the family. That’s all she knows about me.

A baby born with a Daddy in prison. What kind of life can that ever be?
A quick divorce, and my wife remarried. Now they have a new family.
She calls . . . him “Daddy.” That's the name she can never call me.
And every time that I come to see her … every time that I come to see her …
I’m introduced . . . as a friend of the family. That’s all she knows about me.

And I’m allowed to see her once a year – as a friend of the family
She doesn’t know why I’m really here – I’m just a friend of the family
And I'll never hear her call me Dad –– that’s the one thing I can never have.
And I’ll never know my daughter’s love – And I’ll never feel my daughter’s hugs

She calls . . . him “Daddy.” That’s a name she can never call me.
And every time that I come to see her … every time that I come to see her …
I’m introduced . . . as a friend of the family. That’s all she knows about me.

And I’m allowed to see her once a year – as a friend of the family
She doesn’t know why I’m really here – I’m just a friend of the family
And I can never tell her I’m her Dad –– I’m just a friend of the family
That’s the one thing I’ll never have – I’m just a friend of the family
And I’ll never know my daughter’s love – Just a friend of the family
Never get to feel my daughter’s hugs – Just a friend of the family
Just a friend — a friend of the family. And that’s all she’ll ever know about me.

the revolution never came

The world is dying by degrees. A silent spring … A summer heat.
A winter storm that lasts for days. An autumn drought without a break.
Now it’s too late for any change. The revolution never came.

One group of people lost in flight; One group of people sworn to fight. Some looking out just for themselves. There’s no more food upon the shelves. Some tried escaping to the mountains; or seeking safety on an island. But death pursues them everywhere. A lethal virus fills the air.

Just look around at what we’ve done. It’s to our everlasting shame.
Some prayed for God’s solution –- some planned on revolution –-
But people in power never change. And the revolution never came.

Another bomb went off last night. Another city mired in strife.
Amidst the broken windowpanes, a population gone insane.
A situation that can’t change … ... ... the revolution never came.

We thought we had it under control. We thought we knew how to survive. We purchased guns and bombs and missiles. Now nobody’s getting out alive. People sleeping in the streets –– sifting through garbage just to eat. Children crying out in pain –– not just because of climate change. We are the ones who are to blame . Humans can be inhumane. … … … The revolution never came.

Now that the end is drawing near. We know the signs were always clear.
The rich became too greedy … The poor were always needy …
Though once we had enough to share.
It all collapsed under the strain.
We only have ourselves to blame.
The revolution never came.