Within this home lives a Mighty Man.
Inishrue, is home to quite a mighty man.
A hurler of legend, a singer of song.
A farmer, with a small farm at high tide and a large at the low tide.
This mighty man could be met, at most any pub.
With boyhood friend Michael, who would share rides on the back of tractors to the village.
One pub was special for Mattie and me, we felt a winkle, not a twinkle, in our eyes, for it was Winkle’s Pub.
Mattie would go for the Pints and chat, and I for the pints and set-dance.
Greeted by a strong hand shake and pat on the back, Mattie would ask if at evenings end, if I might give him a lift. This I always did.
I would dance, he would sing, we would chat that night away, with our drink at hand.
When drinking up time, was near finish and tae Gardai Pat or Danny outside the door, it was time to give the promised lift.
And for this Mattie would give the gift of song, the same song each time. Take Me Home Country Road it was, as I took Mattie and Michael home on their country road, and they made me, a blow-in feel at home on their country road.
Michael would be dropped first and Mattie would make sure he made it in the door, to be Safe Home. Giving me a thumbs up and more song as we drove to his.
He would stumble from the car, and then to the wall, where his gate awaited him, and he would search for key, in the dark of the night, in a crevasse in the stone wall.
Walk he would to the front door, try to match key to lock. Once done he would enter and turn on the light.
A big silhouette in the light he was, as he gave the Mattie thumbs up, that he was safe and sound.
I could leave now with his song in me head, and a bit heart felt warmth from a night with Michael and Mattie.
Ah, the Mighty man Mattie Whelan, who when I took him home made me, a blow-in, feel at home. Beth McCann.
