The Little House

Amidst the bars' hospitable glow
the singing voices chanted low
the homely songs of long ago
the voices that we heard of yore
a sound of days that are no more
the passing of our many hosts
our well loved friends and other ghosts
may our hands be clasped more closely
but bricks and mortar no longer stand
men with diggers rape the land
on which "The Little House" once stood
a hundred years of wars and blood
you who have set man's heart ablaze
tell no more of enchanted days
Alas it failed to pass the test
someone said for the best
Not for us it wasn't
Singing On

By Billy Curran