IN MEMORY OF IAN HOY
16th September 1954 – 3rd April 2004
Samuel John Alexander
My goodness that’s some name
Then suddenly they shortened it
And they just called you – Ian.
You got a little sister
When you were only three
And when she couldn’t say your name
She just called you Ee! Ee!
You laughed and played
And rode your bike
And went to school
To read and write.
Then life dealt a cruel blow
When God took your dad away
To live with him in another land
That is brighter and fairer than day.
School days over life’s free rein
No more lessons no more cane
You served your time but it was plain to see
You never were cut out to be a “grease monkey.”
To be a farmer was your intent
You worked long hours
Till you were spent
At nothing else would you be content.
Glarryford Hall on a Monday night
To put the farming world to right
A laugh, a joke, and you never could tell
Maybe a date if all went well.
You fell in love
And married Pat
First you had Pamela
Then Steven after that.
You watched them grow
With love and pride
You guarded them
And was their guide.
Potatoes was your specialist subject
It was here that you made your mark
Nothing else in agriculture
Came closer to your heart.
We saw you growing weary
The road was getting tough
God saw it too and he just said
My son, you’ve had enough.
You were taken quickly from us
In the blinking of an eye
And we are left to wonder
Why you had to die.
Elizabeth Hoy, Cullybackey, May 2004