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A place where Paddy shares his thoughts, rambles, and other artistic endeavors


Presidential Dream
We were all sort of hangin’ round this old Irish country style fireplace, Bill, Arty and Johnny a few other musicians, Just hangin’, shootin’ the breeze eaten food cocktails drinkin’, beer good whiskey, mature wine and Champagne.

All this beside some old stone fireplace! I was about to sit down with the lads and have a tune when Bill turned round to his case, pulled out a bag bellows and chanter, strapping them on with the ease of someone who’d been handling those things for some time, he sat down on the hob and started to play, after playing a few reels jigs waltzes and stuff he took me and my pipes accompanied by the lads on guitars, some dude friend of his on the old upright piano to the highest notes from the lowest growls, a music I can only describe as wild! A mixture of trad jazz, blues and our imagination taking full advantage of the evenings crazy setting, swinging 'round unstrapping the pipes and hangin’ the sax he began to swing like no one I’d ever seen.

On the way home pushing the peddles, something strange glittering in the light of the moon, across the green fields I try to follow the gay flying object, disappearing now and then from the reflection of night light in my glazed and tired eyes. After some time trying to figure out what this crazy pilot was up to, playing with aerobatics at these small hours of the morn? Suddenly in sight, X-rayed through light on full moon I could see the shape of a person enveloped in a silvery membrane, stretching out past wide open fingers like loose feathers on the tips of a vultures wing, spreading all the way down to his feet and beyond like a huge silver kite and the skeletal figure of a man swooping and gliding with graceful art as if checking out his huge domain “planet earth”. I turned to Bill and Hillary who nearly fell off a their tandem. O my god! He shouts, It’s George!

Ding Dang! Ding Dong!

My cell phone alarm goes off.

House on the hill
May 18th 2005


Dave Williams
November 1999 & 2000

Never forget the smile on your face, as you unwrapped the regs in the room I spent time admiring the shine of silver, set neat in the black of the wood Unaware of Brian's sweating and swearing, with an audience and no piper to play. We completely lost track of time.


Rods and reeds fit snug in daul stock, we looked and nodded the same. The look the action, the sound from each key pressed Playing as if they’d been forever yea, they passed the most crucial test

Long days spent in the workshop, measuring scraping, sanding
and later down at the local, we’d wash down a chestfull of dust The work sweat and time seemed distant, on the day you opened the case

For the shine of the silver the smell of the leather and I had the rest of my pipes.

You said I should maybe play them awhile, before taking them out on the stage
Surprise! For along with a room full of people and pipers you sat through my set with a smile, happy and proud as,

Do you remember Dave?

Celebrating, You I and Tommy went on a pub-crawl, to the oldest pubs in Stamford we played with ideas of perfection, a reed for each note on the regs
To complete my set with a yellow box chanter? The black one I have in my case

The pipe talk came to an abrupt ending, as the barmaid came out with the pints.

Dave, we’ll miss you

Paddy's Rambles

St. Paul, MN

Jan 2005

A memory flash from the 60’s

as I was taken to a tailor to have

my leather coat sewn under the oxter,
didn't happen,
Tailor was going away next day,

didn't’t have time.
This came to mind in the pub ‘cross the street.



In the days of old when I was young
a tailor I met on the way for a dram
We chatted awhile ‘bout my old leather coat
pushing the gates of the saloon next door

Many years passed, since been on the street
calling into the cobbler in my two bare feet
in a brown paper bag, my grand cowboy boots
taking them from me, intending to shorten
the original measured for some lucky guy

it was then he noticed the tear on my coat
as I hung it ‘longside my hat on a hook
sitting at the bar ordering the drops
talked all day long, through most of the night

Whatever happened to the cobblers next door?
This is it, he answered with a smile on his mush
yea, a fine young cobbler and not a bit shy
mended my shoes good as any guy
She passed away, yea, lord rest her

Often wondered what became of those boots
glue nails and hammer, most of da’s tools
I’d ripped open the tops for to fold under
thumb flat on anvil under the hammer
they eventually got lost in the cobblers shop

maybe she;s wearing them way up in heaven
barn dancing dust rising jumping and swinging
didn’t know there were cobblers women
sure hope she’s happy in d’aul pavee boots


Caribbean Trip

April-May 03

Comin’ here, way over there
Movin’ ‘round, with certain fear
Washed by waves on sun lit sand
Time is of no essence

Endless views fill my eyes
Standing here with no disguise
I hear d cries of nature, living

Standing on d moving sand
Watching how d waves
Pull down
The feel of my feet sinking

Tropical forests, we once belonged
Protected now by unknown sounds
Inside, the moving Planet
Breaths with rhythm.

I turn round and there's the bridge
Wood and rope I sway across
Chilling calls long forgotten
Stop me

Paddy Keenan 2004


Mother's Day

Sunday, May 14th 06
I'm sitting at home on the hill, tired after spending most of the night helping a great big thoroughbred mare give birth to her first foal, it was scary, I heard someone shouting downstairs, it's happening! It was Mary Anne and her daughter, Mary on the cell, Frantically trying to get hold of Carol, who had decided to go for a walk, after spending nights on alert! 
Spin on her side, her butt against the sliding door pushing it outwards making it near impossible to slide the door open, with the foals legs and head being pushed very close to the corner of the barn and likely to be crushed. I only realized how much I cursed and swore at those doors and the person who had closed them, when introduced to the closed circuit camera results, the following day. There's me shouting abuse at the sliding door pushing like mad and with all that crazy strength I managed to slide it away from Spins butt and foals front legs and head. What an experience! The mare was up again with the foal going back inside, she was having a hard time for the foal was way over due. I was standing there wishing that I had just pulled on the two little white hooves, but no, she was up and taken another stance while Caila and I fought off Gunner the father, who I have now renamed Goner since he was fixed after he got Spin pregnant. Spin lay down again and this time I thought, first chance. 
I grabbed the two little white pads, Carol, my landlady came and took hold of its head and shoulders, we pulled gently until eventually we were looking at a complete mess! But soon after, Carol and I pulled off the messy stuff and there, was the cutest little white face on a chestnut brown body and four spindly spider like legs, twisting all over the barn, the longest legs you could imagine. 

Spin's such a lovely mom.


the stable hand. 


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