Peter Kelleher

The reaper who claimed him will one day claim us all
As a young enough man to the scythe of the feared one he did fall
The high fields around Gneeves hill forever look green
Though Peter Kelleher there never more will be seen
But memories of him as a teenager remain
Walking the bog road with his dog in the wind and the rain
Before he left Gneeves for to live elsewhere
And learn about life in the big World out there
Though perhaps two decades beyond his prime day
He did not live on to slowly fade away
And die of old age with the deceased he now lay
On all of our lives the reaper has the last say
As a young man he often walked with his sheepdog
Up the high narrow road that leads to Gneeves bog.