It was on his head all day
I wonder if he took it off
When he knelt down to pray?
He wore it in the Summer
When the sun was beating down
He wore it on the farm
And he wore it in the town
And when appearing on TV
Campaigning for farmer’s rights
It still was sitting there
Despite the studio lights
And when he went to bed at night
Was it still atop his head?
And is it still sitting there
Now he’s in his coffin – dead?
Or will it be preserved
In memory of this chap
Who all throughout his adult life
Was rarely seen – without his cap?
-In Memoriam. Jackie Healy-Rae 1931-2014
http://www.thejournal.ie/
© Thomas Martin
THOMAS MARTIN lives in Dublin. His writing has been featured in Piranha, Figments, The Weary Blues and Shot Glass Journal
