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Anne Mullane

In life few of us do share a similar destiny
Anne Mullane was a person much younger than me
And though of her i knew her i did not get to know
Though we were both raised in the place of the silver back crow

We all have our different journeys in life
To Matt Murphy of Kilworth she became the wife
The pipe of the curlew never more for to hear
Above Coolikerane Bog in the Spring of the year

As time goes hers was not a very long span
The Reaper of lives did come early to Anne
Some live to be old and some do die young
But the praises of every good person ought to be sung

In Spring in the field where the rushes do grow
Never more for to hear the male pheasant cuck and crow
Or hear the lark singing as upwards he does fly
A musical speck in the gray of the sky

We are born to mortality on this we do not have a say
And on all of our lives time is ticking away
And far from Coolikerane where she first saw light of day
The last remains of Anne Murphy nee Mullane does lay.

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