Irish Rover Dream
I’m a Rover from the cliffs of Dover,
My red-haired true-love I am bound to see.
I’ve traveled this land and sailed the Ocean,
Wild adventure has a strong hold on me.
Oh, wish me well lads, drink to my true-love,
Skipping through Heather waiting there for me.
I’ll find me a way to be by her side
Before it snows us in on Christmas Eve
Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"