Like Johnny cash we walked the line five days of the week On to school in Feenagh, an education for to seek

We tramped the road every day, rain hail or snow

There were no excuses, we simply had to go

If you were sick, you brought a note when you got well

“He was in the village Sir”, someone was bound to tell

We would sometimes get there early, if we had to read or write

And copy in the lessons we should have done last night

One morning the key it would not fit, and he couldn’t understand

‘Till it transpired the lock had been packed by some unknown hand

The local tradesman was sent for, and had to break the door

We were warned not to try that trick anymore

The prayers and the roll call, Irish, English and Sums

History and geography, and of course the Irish songs

Two were detailed for the fire, pick sticks and clean the grate

Then down to the river to wash your hands, and make sure you aren’t late

The same applied in the evening; you had to sweep the floor

It would take you a half an hour or sometimes maybe more

Lunch time was at half past twelve, bread and a bottle of milk

Then a game of Football, in a yard covered in sink

One day a boy put paraffin oil in his mouth

Then he lit a match and sprayed the paraffin out

He would remind you of a dragon you would see in Folklore

But when the teacher was finished with him, he was sorry and sore

We were experts with the catapult and could hit a bee in the eye

But the day he made a lightening raid, we wished that we could die

The weapons were placed at the back of the fire and I thought I saw him grin

As he took the rod out from his desk, and we were walloped again

Two of us one day pulled a stone from the boundary wall

The next thing we knew was a five foot gap that shouldn’t be there at all

The girls of course had a school of their own, so we wouldn’t be distracted

If we had been mixed away back then, I think he’d have blown a gasket

He often said he would get us expelled, when he really did see red

But when he got outside the gate, he turned for the pub instead

Across the road to get some rods to make the slapping sticks

But of course we soon got up to our usual tricks

Cut across on the end of the rod, and the first time it was used

It would fly into four pieces, and he was not amused

My pal was asked one day, what death St. Stephen got

He gave me a nudge, and I said he was shot

The teacher flew into a rage, and once more I paid the price

From that day on I was sparing with my good advice

Getting ready for Confirmation was the hardest time of all

The bible and the parables, our backs were to the wall

When the big day came, and after all the grief

We were asked a simple question, and got a pat upon the cheek

Someone stole the girls skipping rope, and pushed it down the jacks

Then we had the headmistress too upon our backs

The sports day marked the start of the summer break

The one day there were no lessons and we got ready for the race

The school was out at twelve o’ clock, our education o’er

Except for those who carried on and wished to learn more

There were ninety-six boys on the roll, in those good old days

Now they are all scattered, and gone their separate ways

The day we left that school, no one shed any tears

But still it’s true what they say, they were the happiest days

By: Jim Moloney