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Maudlin Tears

It always happens after a few beers
That I must stifle back those maudlin tears
The maudlin tears I won't allow to flow
I'm not the man that some others think they know.

I hear the lark pipe in the morning sky
Above the coarse meadows of Lisnaboy
And the orange breast robin carolling in the rain
And those maudlin tears I struggle to contain.

The frog is croaking in the flooded drain
And I hear the magpie's cackling voice again
And in all of my years of life I have not seen
The fields of Ballydaly quite so green.

Real men don't weep I've often heard it said
And that by woman kind alone tears only shed
But real men cannot be real if this be so
If all of their human emotions they can't show.

On it's journey to the sea at Youghal Bay
The Blackwater through Drishane winds it's way
And tears again are welling in my soul
Those maudlin tears I struggle to control.

It always happens after a few beers
Nostalgic thoughts stir up those maudlin tears
The maudlin tears I stifle down inside
The things men do for their foolish manly pride.

by Francis Duggan

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