The old man came down from the top of O'Connell Street .
It was sometime after midnight as the rain fell down .
We met there at Moore Street where he put his arms around me , with tears in his eyes he said,
" I love this old town"
I looked at the old man
and took up my guitar then I played some of the old songs as my fingers went numb .
The cold wind blew my song through the city, round every corner went the notes my guitar had just strummed .
The rain eased a little and the wind died down , then the old man shook my hand and very proudly said to me.
"Dublin's my city, she's hard, but she's pretty . Dublin's like the heart that keep's beating here deep inside of me "
I whispered a prayer as he walked away in the night
"God look out for that old man ,
I don't even know his name .
Heaven knows how it goes .
In Dublin city there's a whisper and a prayer
on every breath that ever came.
By Paul McCann
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-03-11 06:48:01
Last Login: 05.24.12
Visits as of 12-12-07: 281
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