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