Friday, March 18, 2016

In Memory of Molly Buckley



Molly Buckley set sail from old County Cork.
Tight quarters, rough seas hit the ship with true torque.
That lass was so sick,
She did not give a lick,
When she spied Lady Liberty in New York.

Well, this brave woman was Dorchester-bound
Where she hoped a good job could be found.
Her sis took her in,
She found some fun sin,

American drinking and dancing all ‘round.
Some Yanks – the Bayliss’s—needed a maid,
At 315 Commonwealth Ave where they stayed.
Molly swept and she dusted,
And with the ham served the mustard.
T’was the easiest job! She couldn’t believe she got paid.

There were loads of Irish in the Back Bay.
Brigid the cook was from Donegal, so far away.
She stole food for the men
Who worked the railroad and then
In payment, Irish music they would play.

One handsome man caught Molly’s eye.
In his fine uniform he began to drop by.
A mailman-steady job
Maurice had a few bob
For a husband he was perfect- educated, sober, and shy.

A wedding, then 6 kids during the Depression.
Two sets of twins left quite an impression
All of Dorchester would drop in,
To join the cousins and kin,
And watch a tiny TV - their only possession.

Sadly, Maurice died of heart troubles quite young.
While Molly had good genes – a lottery she sure won.
Her fatty diet was risky,
But her secret was daily whiskey,
Stubborn Molly lived to one hundred and one.

You see Molly always preferred laughter to tears.
Looking back, sad times were seconds, and good times were years.
Never missed parties or dances,
And bravely took chances.

Let’s all live like Molly, raise your whiskey, sláinte and cheers.

--Janice Hayes-Cha

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

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