A Poem by: Dominic O’Kelly from Sky Sea Sod

For three score summers, sixty winters cold,
     Through twenty thousand days of heat or hail . . .
     True beasts of burden, willing without fail
Ye've toiled for me—ne'er having to be told!

On land or mid sea billows battling bold,
     In far-flung climes, through dark or sun-dight dale,
     O’er Derg’s chastening crags, airborne, a-sail . . .
Ye've helped me on—nor ever asked for gold!

Ye sought no raiment in those days of ease,
     When life was young and miles flew passing fleet.
     Now as I rest with bronchial chest awheeze…
Ye too relax—tired of the dusty street:
     Fell fate in vain tried bring me to my
     knees
While borne aloft by you, mine own two feet!