Éamon

I see you Éamon, standing behind the Roughty Bar,
Diligently filling pints of frothy porter.
Now and then you glance sideways and over,
Nodding, always listening to customers,
Some merry in intoxication, you smile that familiar grin,
Rubbing the tip of your nose, with your little finger.
A shy glance passes over your countenance.
You laugh and turn sideways,
A yarn has been spun for you to hear.
Secrets you have stored in millions,
The problems, sighs and sorrows of your treasured drinkers.
You their patient listener, a worthy confessor,
Your Bar their confessional.
Stories told, sometimes exaggerated,
Yet you smiled and listened, pretended you believed,
Now you are gone forever, no more will you greet us,
With that welcome grin, “That’s on the House”.
Yes Éamon, the Angels have taken you to a land
Where peace and love exist- no more standing
For long hours in a smokey bar listening
To the same stories relayed from morning to night,
Yet you never complained, the angels relish you
Treasure your generous heart, brave smile and silent suffering.
Your bent head I will always see, two hands pulling,
Filling the frothy pints above the glass filled bar,
Leaving behind broken hearts with fond memories
Of one who worked silently without complaint.
You passed away quietly, just as you had lived.
Slán leat a Éamon Dhíl.

Copyright Máiréad Tuohy Duffy (C)1999

In memory of Éamon Tuohy
who died 30th March 1999. R.I.P.