In memory of my ancestor William Brennan (Brennan on the moor) who chose to become a highwayman after his forebears were ousted from their ancestral home in county Kilkenny, during the Norman invasion of Ireland.
He rode from high to the valley floor,
then hid behind the rowan tree.
It was time to settle a deep-set score
and seek vengeance for his family.
They took the land they took their pride,
rode roughshod o'er the scattered bones.
With mace and mail from far and wide,
castles shook, to the bare keep stones.
But now midst leaves, and masked and still,
flintlock and cutlass tried and true.
A glossy mare to do his will
those in league, are now sure to rue.
Coach rims crunch on graveled base
two pairs snort, wild manes aquiver.
He spurs her on, now quick apace.
"Halt there coachman. Stand and deliver!"
From "The Journey: A Nomad Reflects."
For Sale at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/0692500944/ref=rdr_ext_tmb
Also for Sale:
Don’t Die with Regrets: Ireland and the Lessons my Father Taught Me.