Belfast Mill
Si Kahn/Finbar Furey
At the east end of town at the foot of the hill
There’s a chimney so tall, it says Belfast Mill.
But there’s no smoke at all coming out of the stack
For the mill has shut down and it’s never coming back.
Chorus
And the only tune I hear is the sound of the wind
As it blows through the town, weave and spin, weave and spin.
There's no children playing in the dark narrow streets
For the mill has shut down, it's so quiet, I can’t sleep.
Chorus
The mill has shut down, it’s the only life I know,
Tell me where will I go, tell me where will I go.
Chorus
I'm too old to work and I’m too young to die,
Tell me where will I go my family and I.
Chorus
Waking up Dad
Dad was often difficult to wake. Admittedly, he often worked night shift, and sometimes worked two jobs, so he was probably somewhat sleep-deprived. Whenever possible, however, he did want to have the evening meal with the family.
Sometimes, Mum would send one of us upstairs to wake him. This could be a risky task, as Dad was likely to flail his arms when someone disturbed his sleep. It wasn’t violent, it was a ‘Go away’ gesture. Nevertheless, he was bigger than us, and if you got hit by a flailing arm, it knocked you over. He did require physical intervention, though. Yelling at him to ‘Wake up’ was not, on its own, sufficient.
Best done in twos. More oomph! Ready, set, go! Run at the bed, yelling ‘Dad, wake up!’ Thump him as hard as you could, then duck and run out of reach of the flailing arm. Usually, he would wake after two or three of these assaults.
This is my favorite picture of my father.
Once, when he had been particularly insistent that he be woken up for dinner, we could not wake him. Mum came upstairs and tried the trick of dribbling cold water on his forehead which usually worked. But not this time.
“Grab his feet,” she said to me.
She hoiked her arms under his armpits, and together we got him off the bed. I wasn’t up to the task of taking my half of the weight, so we half dragged him to the stairs. I wasn’t much help at all here, so Mum bumped him down the stairs, trying not to crack his head too hard on the steps, which were carpeted.
He remained stubbornly asleep.
Once downstairs, we managed to prop him in the recliner, where he remained for some hours while we had our supper and went to bed.
