Memories of Home

by Gerald Pearson

Far across the deep blue sea, there’s an island dear to me
And it’s known by the name of Merasheen;
Now if I could have my way, I would go back there to stay
With the trees and the meadows oh so green.

Most of the houses are torn down, since the people moved to towns,
And left a lot of happy memories;
There were good times had by all, in Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall
At their card parties, soup suppers, and house sprees.

They had plenty of home brew, made from malt and spruce boughs too
And if by chance now you should happen for to call;
You might find a sheep thrown in the pot, or rabbit soup served boiling hot
You were guaranteed to have yourself a ball.

Sure at dancing they did well, most times never took a spell
And their merriment did make the rafters ring;
Someone would play the mouth organ or the button accordian
While in another room somebody else would sing.

They sung the old songs, some I know, Sweet Town of Anthony and Jessie Monroe
Black Eyed Susan, Faded Coat of Blue, Beach of Straw Blane;
Paisley Town, Bonny Laboring Boy, Dark Eyed Sailor, Little Fisherman’s Boy
Oh I’d give the world to hear them once again.

Now those good times have gone to stay, since the folks all moved away,
Makes me wonder now how things just might have been;
If we all had stayed at home, instead of choosing for to roam,
From our little homes on the Isle of Merasheen.