I thought to take the train to Dublin, take a glass or two in the Palace Bar
Leave my place west of Killarney, out on the headland, past Dingle Bay
I’d meet a fair-minded legal couple who would tell me of their land
Of planting trees and building houses, for the returning poor folks to stay
I’d hear talk of a new kind of landlord, a guardian of his own destined way
He’d pay a Welsh man to carve his pastures, in the ideal of Capability Brown
His mission was tied into the desire for a legacy, to be achieved through land and book
He would read all that he could, such that one day he should write his own piece
So complete, and so succinct, so much more in the line of Hemingway and land
Than of F.Scott Fitzgerald’s labours, with the splintered souls of soul-less society
