Dusty road along a creek,
Chewed up dog layin’ on a porch,
Tin roof bright in the summer sun
Ancient logs daubed with mud.
Poplar plank porch worn smooth,
Sanded by passin’ of a thousand feet,
Th’ rockin’ of a hundred chairs
Tappin’ of a thousand toes.
Old man sittin’ there rockin’,
Shoulders planed down by toil,
Face sandblasted by a hard-scrabble life.
Yet eyes clear ‘neath craggy brow.
Call comes, “Fly away, Fly away home".
To green isles, rocky hills,
Ancestral shores as craggy as th’ ol’ man’s brow.
Callin’ him to his ancestral islands.
Icy blue eyes look backward through generations,
Back through tales of fairies and selkies.
Back to buried memories of ancestral hearths and peat fires,
Smokey memories, the sweet incense of a hidden history.
That ancient memory calls him home,
To a place he has never been,
To a people he has never known.
“Come home, Come home, Fly away home.”
Old eyes close and weep,
He sees a place his feet have never walked,
Hears songs his ears have never heard.
Old heart yearns for a home unknown.
Come away, come away, come away home,
Leprechauns laugh and beckon,
Red haired lasses wink and smile.
Rocks and rills cry out his name.
Old heart yearns as he rocks and slows, sighs,
His spirit reaches out,
His mind leaps across oceans,
Feet tap to the songs of pipes.
Old head nods, worn face smiles,
Rockin’ chair slows, stops.
Tired heart yearns…and stops.
Spirit rises, soars, flies away home.
Chewed up dog looks up,
Whines and watches his master go.
Old head drops, ears lift, listens.
Listens for pipes an’ a call, “Home dog, home.”
