McClory

Pete St John

I took a train to Belfast, first time for fifteen years
To see my friend McClory and enjoy the crack and beers
Nostalgia made me mellow, and the whiskey brought the tears
When the barman said “McClory, haven’t seen him round in years”

Where is he then I said to him, where is that friend of mine
That hard man who once sang the sash in Saskatchewan’s foul clime
That lagan lovin’ shipyard son who took the plane with me
Away from Belfast daydreams in the days of sixtythree

There were times with that McClory, we could not see eye-to-eye
So we traded friendly insults, and we were not afraid to cry
An ill matched pair of Paddies and all we had was snow
Two Irishmen so different in a land we didn’t know

Sure he’s been gone since eighty, said a docker drinking brew
On a promise to Autrailia there was no one left he knew
The guns and bombs fair broke his heart not knowing right from wrong
I went silent and to the station, there was more than McClory gone