Praying the Rosary in olden days in Ireland

After tea, on the kitchen floor,
We grabbed a chair and knelt,
Our elbows on the chair’s hard wood,
At our lady’s picture glanced.

The repetition of each soft prayer,
Was soothing to the ear,
Sometimes, perhaps monotonous,
But each face was full of cheer.

Our Mum prayed for each one near and far,
For those long passed away,
This lovely blessed Rosary,
Kept us safe at work and play.

She prayed for all our emigrants,
In Australia and U.S.A.,
For all who helped this land of ours,
My God! how she  could pray.

The “trimmings” of her Rosary,
Lasted an hour each night,
As we knelt upon the flag stones,
Unaware of war or strife.

Today, how many say their prayers?
With Rosary beads in hands,
Greed for money, vice and worldly gains,
Have engrossed the brains of man.

Mairead Tuohy Duffy (C) 2017