The Broad Majestic ShannonBy Shane MacGowan (1988) The last time I saw you was down at the Greeks
There was whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
You sang me a song as pure as the breeze
Blowing up the road to Glenaveigh
I sat for a while at the cross at Finnoe
Where young lovers would meet when the flowers were in bloom
Heard the men coming home from the fair at Shinrone
Their hearts in Tipperary wherever they go
Take my hand, and dry your tears babe
Take my hand, forget your fears babe
There's no pain, there's no more sorrow
They're all gone, gone in the years babe
I sat for a while by the gap in the wall
Found a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
Heard the cards being dealt, and the rosary called
And a fiddle playing Sean Dun na nGall
And the next time I see you we'll be down at the Greeks
There'll be whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
For it's stupid to laugh and it's useless to bawl
About a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
So I walked as day was dawning
Where small birds sang and leaves were falling
Where we once watched the row boats landing
By the broad majestic Shannon
That nut case, Sinead O'Connor calls Shane a "sweet angel near the end". Well, he is sweet and he is an angel of a poet. I want to believe that he can overcome his troubles. I have the greatest respect for those who can and do.
I have a quick tale today. Do you recall the Angel Whisperer?
You can go back and read about him here on this older post: CHEESUS LOVES ME
Today I overslept. I have been talked into getting on Facebook. I have some friends there and there was a little something I needed to make right from a bazillion years back with an old acquaintance. So there was time last night and I got down to it.
I made a dumb mistake that took me hours to correct! I fell into bed around the time I usually get up... 4:00a.m.
I drug myself up at 10:00a.m. There was no coffee! That's just wrong. So I called StbX and asked him to buy me coffee. He agreed. As we are reading our paper, in walks The Angel Whisperer. The little alarm in my head begain to squeal. I tried to get lost in my paper and be focused only there.
Sure enough he stopped at our table and smiled. God help me, I smiled back. StbX glowered. But to my amazement all the big guy did was make a normal mentally healthy comment about the weather and then lumbered on to his own booth.
We had just finished our meal and were getting up to go when The Angel Whisperer stood up and nodded his smiling head at us. I gave a little wave. (I know... I can't seem to help myself!)
He said: "Your angels are singing. Can you hear them?"
I was trying to formulate an answer when he spoke again and made it clear that this was a rhetorical question.
"They must really love you."
There is only one answer to that statement.
"Thank you." I said as he walked out the door.
I don't know about you... but after yesterday's post song by Westlife that goes:
"I believe in angels, something good in everything I see... I belive in agnels... "
I couldn't help but think that if he has to be crazy, then it's a sweet kind of crazy.
Wouldn't it be wonderful to be so close to angels that you could hear them sing?
To wear such a beautiful smile everywhere you went ?
What if he is not the one who is crazy?
What if we aren't good enough for angels to trust us to see them?
You know, I don't think I mind if angels sing to me. Sweet.
And I hope I can see something good in everything.