That I’m back again at Casey’s, with the old, old friends at Casey’s;
Spending Sunday down at Casey’s after Mass.
ST. PATRICK’S DAY
’Tis the greatest splash of sunshine right through all my retrospection
On the days when fairies brought me golden dreams without alloy,
When I gazed across the gum-trees round about the old selection
To the big things far beyond them, with the yearning of a boy.
Drab the little world we lived in; like the sheep, in slow procession
Down the track along the mountain, went the hours upon their way,
Bringing hopes and idle longings that could only find expression