Colleen

Colleen

I remember on
one cold Sunday
morning in
country near
here – many years
ago –
we were on holiday
and it gets cold in
this part of
Australia,
strange to say,
in winter –

“Colleen”, I heard the
mother cry to her
teenage daughter,
to her lass,
after mass,
“Colleen!”. Even then
I found it quaint.

For her name,
Colleen,
“girlie”,
had come
all the
way from
Ireland
to the Great South
Land.

I wonder where you
are now, Colleen.
Did you push
out a handsome
farmer’s baby,
to be
baptised
after mass
in the bush?

 

(Julian O’Dea)

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