Roots and Wings

I think you know that I like lyrics, especially those that make me think and in the past few days I came across a wonderful song by Imelda May.  It’s called “The girl I used to be” and she speaks of her own upbringing and the values she wishes to share with her young daughter.  There’s a lovely introduction to this in the video below.  There’s a lengthy introduction but it’s worth a listen too. Well done Imelda.

I hope you enjoy this …. that’s the reason I’m sharing it.



Once upon a time
A Dublin girl ran free
Down the cobblestones
Round pubs and homes
As rich as she could be
Swimming in the Irish Sea
Climbing up Bray Head
Her lips were warmed
With pots of tea
Chips and buttered bread
Fed love from Mam and Da

They raised her up
They made her fly
They gave her roots and wings
As time moves on and years go by
She’ll miss those simple things
She’s the girl I used to be

The playgrounds all came down
And we mourned our factories
Times were tough, but I had enough
I had my family
Life kicked in with all its might
But my strong heart wouldn’t break
I got kicked around and broken down
I took all that I could take

But you raise me up
You made me fly
You gave me roots and wings
As time moves on and years go by
I miss those simple things
And the girl I used to be

Now I’m grown with a child of my own
And I hope to God on high
That these are the days she thinks upon
As the best days of her life

And I’ll raise her up
I’ll make her fly
I’ll give her roots and wings
As time moves on and years go by
She’ll miss those simple things
And the girl she used to be
She’s the girl I used to be

Old Friends tell an old story

I was down in the “Thatch Cottage” at Kilmovee Community Centre a while ago.  Some of my old friends from St Aiden’s N.S., Monasteraden were there filming their most recent “movie” for FÍS.  They have become so good at this over the years.  I look forward to seeing the new…

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A tune

I love music and thought I might add a song here in honour of St Patrick’s Day. It’s one of my favourite songs and I used it at Mass. It’s written by a Meath man, Dick Farrelly (R.I.P.) and tells something of the emigrant’s ability to connect with home, even…

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Then something like this happens

It’s been a terrible week – violence, death, destruction and fear.  Heartbreaking times on a worldwide scale. People plotting murder and destruction and it’s all so SO wrong.  Then, in parishes all over the world, children gather with their schoolmates, teachers and families to entertain and tell a-new the Christmas…

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