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April  16, 2008

Some Ranchers rode into town last night.
Hangin in the saloon for a time, then staggering noisily across the dust covered street, calling out my brothers name.
Johnny! One of them shouted. Ive come to straighten an old debt, Johnny. You remember my friend Joss? "Johnny boy". He growled!
Johnny jumps his horse, Billy gets in the way. Joss's friend takes advantage, pulls his gun, fingers tightening round the trigger. Johnny turns gun in hand, Joss's friend drops to the ground in a cloud of dust. His friend makes a dive at Billy, Billy slaps him with his 44, he too hits the ground.
Johnny and Billy run for the barn, turning and crashing through the store window knocking over the keeper. Me, right behind them cursing and swearing from the back door, Just as Billy jumped the step, the door swings back, slaps me on the head and seems to lock? I bang and push to no avail, rooting through a mess of junk and papers, for something to break through. Pulling an old bag from the trash, it rips open, scattering wads and wads of ten and twenty dollar bills! Stuffing them inside the linings of my jacket, socks and trouser legs. Loud angry voices out front, as I reach for the door. The door swings open with no effort at all, I feel myself going all kind of light headed.
Suddenly, I'm sitting up on a hill looking down the valley at Johnny and Billy, galloping like mad, trails of dust, the town posse behind them, smoke rising from their guns.


Daddy! Daddy!

I open my sticky eyelids.

Sabrina was standing there in her pajamas all foggy and very sleepy looking, rubbing her eyes.
I looked at my watch, Five thirty AM!

I lifted her up tucked her into bed and we both went back to sleep.

Dec. 30th  2008
The Hill Loudon, NH

Went outside this evening at 6:30pm to the most beautiful skies!

The crescent hangin over hills and valleys on the bottom of a shadowed gray sphere? The Moon!

A great bright Planet on my side of the Moon
illuminating its solar body, reflecting white heat from our setting Star!

A backdrop of massive glittering diamonds,
expanding from vastly distant clouds of light


Streaks of orange, strings of pink!
Purples and deep dark blues!?

The skys alive!

The Doran Weekend
Feb 22nd 23rd 24th.  

Co, Wicklow Ireland

While aimlessly driving through the hills of Vermont, I thought about this musical gathering back home in Ireland, which I was about to attend in the coming weeks.  It was two years since I had been at this magic weekend, a rare happening of two different communities coming together through music and friendship.
Thanks to the Doran's, Cashes, Rowsome's, Rooney's and the people who organized this musical gathering and all of the people from both the travelling and settled communities for making it a successful weekend.

The weekend of 1999 was a fun, peaceful and joyous weekend. What better foundation than this to start some kind of intelligent relationship between the Pavee and Buffer. 1999 went over without negative incidents except for the editor of a local newspaper who refused to cover the weekend specifying that he didn't want to glorify "knackers" in his newspaper It seems to me that this person has a very different view of traveling people and would not have thought twice of coming down, if there was an incident to justify his belief. It was a lovely feeling to walk out the door of this hotel on a Monday two years ago proud as a Pavee. What I'm trying to say is that this could be seen as a beginning to more understanding of our different life styles and our needs, to survive. Here we are another weekend and three years running.
I've been living in the US ten years now, and believe me, I find it hard sometimes to be in the middle of two worlds and I'm not talking about countries or continents. I'm talking about being a half and half smack bang in the middle of the "Pavee-Buffer" world. Genetically speaking that is. Having said this I can honestly say that at my hearth I'm 100 % me.
I got some photos from a young lad out West, a thirteen year old American piper named Tyler, who was delighted to be in the company of some of the most highly respected names in the piping world.  All of those pictures are friendly photos of the first weekend's event. Even I didn't expect it to go without some kind of friction, nor did the only hotelier in the town who would take it on.  Photos of people getting together in honor of the souls of Johnny, Felix and Leo, offering up a fun weekend of music and memories. This young person along with his family, shared in with the fun and took home with them fond memories, and shared these as a reminder of what we have here today.  Peace and harmony and lots of great music. This is what the travellers bring with them and this is what the settled community offers now. This is what Tyler sees and takes back to the US with him, a young man's impression, absent of any stale prejudices of the past. We should be very proud of this and use it to set an example of our intelligent integrity, to be able to sit back and smile despite the ugly thoughts that haunt and darken the heads of those unenlightened. Friendly weekends like this will hopefully lead us back to the land that was taken from us, way back then. 

Paddy B. Keenan

And if all else fails we can jointly claim squatter's rights to part of the nation!

Brother John
March 27th 2004

Miles Smith Farm

The Hill,Loudon


She comes into my room, won’t sleep alone, constantly rolling over and onto my side, hey! Isn’t a King sized bed not big enough?
Another night of calm and quiet!
I miss her, kicking snoring and grinding her teeth.
Something strange about being alone,
kindling the mind to unearthly roam?
eyes flooding, with memories of old
my dear and recently departed.
Having his brother – her uncle -  in his head for the past few days, been sometimes difficult, and sad to deal with.
Wish I’d not seen him die!
Can’t help thinking and sadly believing,
the doc should’ve saved him!
When I got sick back in 96.
I remember wishing I had his lungs
on hearing a natural cleansing cough!
But how wrong one can be?
Old trucks, cars, wagons and trailers,
an old timepiece, quietly sitting on a mantlepiece, or discarded, Pegged out, as we used say, these are things I see most every day!
Wish he were here now, playing his soulful musical mind
Wonder where he is?
What he’s doing?
Still working on old bangers, broken watches, clocks, or tick tocks we called them, back in the 50’s 60’s.
I can see him up on the pearly gates, fixing the heavenly clock or, working on peters old arc angel mobile!
That you Johnny?
Good night.
Copy write P Keenan. 


Dec boxing day 2010

Walked on and on to the roar of the sea!
Crossed the gates and over green fields
dropping, suddenly vanishing into mist
Filly and I imagining the worst,
looking down on a raging ocean,
a place, by no means,
to be docking a boat,
on a wild Atlantic, bashing the coast?
a drug smuggling delivery, perhaps?
refugees, with guns!  Sham!?
With Imaging magnifying, our wild superstition?
mixed thoughts between us
Creating fear, paranoia, suspicion?
We’re out of our tree!
Written one bitter cold winters night beside, a roaring logs and turf fire!
At Filly’s farm house up the hills of the medieval county of Kilkenny.


Baltimore west cork.
He’d felt suicidal seconds before,
but was reprieved by the miraculous vision                                                                  a keg on the waves
the bottom of a cliff,


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