Eoghan Lyng takes us on an incredible trip to Cork, the cultural capital of Ireland. His words are from the memories of a traveller, making these new streets their own.
Have you seen the old man who calls out the name of the paper,
Echoes the title to the roads,
As the young man walks to Barrack Street,
And crosses the timbered bridge,
For a chicken and chip supper,
That will feed him for a week.
Have you seen St.Finbarr´s church
Where the old girl goes to pray,
Her first has gone to Trinity,
Her second overseas,
But still she smiles at God,
Before the English Market beckons her back again.
Have you been to the Franciscan Well,
Sitting on wooden ships,
As the tables sailed the River Lee,
Seeking an adventure,
Beyond the walls of Patricks Quay,
As the road goes ever on,
Have you heard the songs,
The singers play for coins,
Their hearts keep breaking,
As the sun starts shaking,
Beyond the purple Georgian buildings.
Have you seen the students,
Turning from boys to men,
Never turning back again,
Drinking in candle lit heirlooms,
The dances in the Old Oak,
Where women kissed boys of twenty,
A night they will churn another time.
Potent for poets and singers,
Artists threw themselves at murals,
The Kino cafe opened themselves with coffees,
For hungry bohemian searching for dreams,
Down a fountained road,
Where a man made promises,
He could never hope to keep.
The streets of Cork, fair and grand they stand,
For another man to walk in place.
Have you seen the roads, my friend
Once walked, you´ll never stop walking them.