Frank Corcoran

I´ ve known Frank Corcoran over eighty years ,

I´ve forgiven his rhymings , fiddling ” fears ” with ” tears” ….

And rhapsodic verses , aerophonic thinking ,

The sheen of strings he loves , the brass all glinting



In a tutti blazing . ( There is nothing wrong

With orchestral tearing ; blaring your own song . )

Flying butresses there were in Frank´s long life ,

Sorrows also twisted the keen knife .



” He sought the right note ” , ” An Nóta Ceart ! “

We´ll chisel in stone ( – is also nearly art . )

Long before decline will wish to start .



Over eighty years his rambling grumbles

At time´s now hoary , gory rough -and -tumble .

But it behoves be proud , yet also humble .