Prodigal Son
by Noah Hamilton
Walking down Richmond Hill,
With a guitar on my back,
I feel free and in love,
Without a panic attack.
The North Mon treated me right,
Through thick and thin,
I wish to thank them,
Even though on the gin.
The love they gave me,
Worth more than money,
But deepest regret,
Was my selection of honey.
A passive endearment,
For my love is my love,
The music in my soul,
Helped me rise above.
Reaching out to people,
Cleaning their gaff,
The love I’ve gotten,
Wasn’t at all at all that much naff.
So here is to you,
Richmond Hill,
Witness the fitness,
For the love of will.
About Noah Hamilton
Noah is visual artist/musician/writer who lived in Cork for over a year. Graduated from LSAD Fine Art Printmaking. Noah has played in several bands, punk, funk, rock and now a trad band for weekends and for the past few years has a podcast under the moniker of “HorseHair”.
