“No light in the window,
No Welcome at the door”

I came across this old place on a country road and I thought there was something very nice about it.Im certain that when it was built this area would have meen just rough fields. Maybe its the thought that a happy family of children were once reared here and Im sure there was lots of love and affection there too. It has a nice feeling about it.
There are a number of Jackdaws building in the roof space and in the chimney on the right. You can see one of them perched on the capping. In some societies its believed that Jackdaws and Rooks are the spirits of those who have passed on and they appear to be great at socialising and are very attentive parents. Maybe its because seem to need one another just like we do and that makes them special. They always like to congregate around deserted buildings constantly chattering to each other in there own special language. Probably saying that the wish the eejit with the camera would feck off!!! I do like to think that they are the spirits of those who once lived here.
The words by the way, are from a old Scottish song which was recorded way back in the 50s by Fr. Sydney Mc Ewan Scottish tenor and also Count John Mc Cormick, the Irish tenor. I think the Fureys had a go at it too. There are quiet a few offerings of it on Utube.
Do hope you will like the pic as much as I do and that your weekend is truly special.
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Update; Well, Im amazed how many people seem to like this photo. I really am so inspired and grateful to you all. Im sure its helped by the bit of the write up that adds to it as well and Im easy with that too.
My mother used to sing this song when I was growing up and I suppose its special. Not so much the song air, but the words which do “destroy me ” every time I think of them. Thats a good thing really as a bit of soul searching does us no harm.

“Oh lonely I wander , Through the days of my childhood,
They call back to memory, The happy days of yore,
Where have they gone now, The house stands deserted,
No light in the window, No welcome at the door ”

Here`s where the children, Played games on the heather.
And here`s where they launched, Their boats on the burn.
Where are they now, Some are dead, some have wandered,
No more to this place will the children return ”

” So lonely the house now, And lonely the moorland,
The children are scattered, The old folks they are gone,
Why stand I here, Like the ghosts of their shadows.
Its time I was moving, Its time I passed on ”

I think its one of the most beautiful pieces of prose ever! Maybe thats because the Wicklow mountains are full of deserted cottages, mostly in ruins. They would have been the homes of the poor who died of starvation, [some of them my ancestors] or emigrated or worse during the famine in 1847-1850. 1 million died, 1 million emigrated, and one million disappeared! And the World and our “masters” stood by and let it happen! Shame on them!
But happily, time has moved on as we all must do!

Thank you all my friends, once again,
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