Merry Hill Road,
Was such a special place to me,
I spent my summers there,
On the rope swing under the oak tree.
Purchased by my Great Grandfather,
Over a hundred years ago,
After arriving from Ireland by ship,
And picking up the bag he did stow.
He headed north into New England,
Searching for the perfect place to make a home,
Disenchanted at first,
For years he did roam.
The Civil War came and went,
And he fought for his new country with pride,
Back to New Hampshire,
He sent to Ireland for his bride.
The young married couple,
So full of love and bliss,
Bought some land on the hill,
And built a similar home that he did miss.
The road was a long one,
The forest so thick he worked with good will,
To make the new house for his young family,
On his slice of heaven, called Merry Hill
Todays best new poem was written by James Spain.