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"It's a Long Way to Tipperary"
It's a long way to Tipperary,
it's a long way to go - and various.
It's a torture of twists, and about-turns,
disillusions, disappointments.
The way to Tipperary appears,
perennially dark with only occasional twilight's.
If you decide to go to Tipperary,
set out while you're young, plucky,
at that age when you're bright-eyed and visions,
of radiant horizons of revelation and achievement,
and you know nothing of twilight's or the dark,
that age when all creation, all life shines clear,
as spring sunlight, bright as light-catching gold.
When you set out you must go alone.
There are no maps of the way to Tipperary.
Your only compass is your own heart. Trust that!
Some see their Tipperary clearly from the start,
see it's a long road, full of daily pitfalls,
a labyrinth of curious sidestreets, inviting,
guesthouses; giddy with the temptations
of those bogey people's trinket stalls'
hokeypokey - daily thieves of eternal energy,
easy come, easy go, you've sold your soul,
you've no more choice. They sell bedlam!
Explore all those sidestreets,
enjoy your chosen resthouses,
fool with a few trinkets to learn
something of the way to Tipperary.
The way to Tipperary darkened
with the shadows of all those
who never got there anyway;
those who settled for some resthouse,
some casual trinket thief of time.
Don't let those shadows,
mumbling in their own gloom,
deter or deviate you.
Hold to your main road. Keep going!
Once you've decided to go to Tipperary
you'll realize you no longer belong to yourself,
but must keep Tipperary in your sights daily,
although you can't see it. Purpose is all.
Without your Tipperary, you too are a mere shadow
at those Limerick Junctions of daily resolution.
On the way to Tipperary keep your eyes open
for signals of direction, encouragement:
that nod of understanding, comradeship,
a cherishing arm on your pillow.
You'll see beautiful sights on the way to Tipperary;
man's mirage tales, imagination's monuments.
You'll behold the endless vistas, panoramas
of vision. Be curious about them all
for the gracious gifts they will afford you.
Without them you'd live that much the poorer.
It's a long way to Tipperary,
and when you get there
nothing awaits you. You'll find no roadsign,
no brassband and welcoming committee
with a proclaiming you're in Tipperary
and a medallion to hang around your neck.
You'll find only what you brought with you
in your heart.
Then, what you must do
is make and leave some record
of what your Tipperary means to you,
as witness for all those behind you
on their ways to their own Tipperaries.
It's a long way to Tipperary,
But all our hearts lie there.
(Irish song)
Tipperary
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