Eoin Butler: writer, journalist and Mayoman of the Year

Tripping Along The Ledge


On Walsh’s Hill

The leaves run with the cars
The cars run to the town
Don’t expect the night time it will only let you down

Walk on Walsh’s hill
Look up at the stars
The town is full of lights and there are people in the bars

The nights are made of nothing
And the mornings are so cold
The television talks to you like you were four years oldTake your life on Friday night
And dream when you’re alone
The people will still curse and kiss when you’re here on your own

The people will still curse and kiss
And dance and drink and screw
While you’re wandering the perimeter and you haven’t got a clue.

[N.B. Chanced upon this juvenilia when I was home for my father’s anniversary mass earlier this month. It was folded, appropriately enough, inside a copy of Johnny Rogan’s Morrissey and Marr: The Severed Alliance. I guess I must have written it when I was thirteen or fourteen years old.]

December 21st, 2011.

5 Responses to “On Walsh’s Hill”

  1. TAD Says:

    Very nice. Do you have more…?

  2. darragh Says:

    You were a mature thirteen year old Eoin. That would be a plausible effort from a much older (and talented) teenager.

    I distinctly remembering writing a sonnet shaped poem about child camel jockeys when I was roughly that age. Sadly, can’t find it now. I was nowhere near as in touch with my mopey teenager as you seem to have been Eoin. Another 2 years before Morrisey and Marr arrived on the scene, and all the solipsistic anguish that makes being a teenager less fun than it looks from the outside.


  3. Eoin Says:

    @ TAD – Hmm. Not sure.

    @ Darragh – Well, there was another piece clearly influenced by/ripped off from The Doors’ Horse Latitudes. Which I have conveniently “mislaid”.

  4. Sholastic Says:

    This is a class poem, Im going to save it

  5. Sholastic Says:

    *to my computer

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