Arbour Hill
I was born in Arbour hill were I played at the window sill by the cobble stone streets where all my pals would meet to exchange toys –after all boys will be boys. sometimes we would head to the feeno but mostly we’d hang out in the broko where the bold Fenian men laid thier weary heads as we played unbeknownst and unperturbed –oh Arbour Hill my beloved hood.The school around the corner was my place of learning and the grange Gorman was my place of hiding with the foys and the Lallys and not forgetting Dermot mc Dermot– ah they were days in the summer haze being chased by loonies dodging the older boys trying to lampoon you. Oh Arbour hill I miss my windowsill.
