Ghost-bereft :: :: University of Virginia Library

But sure what would I see or hear tell could persuade me this summer 'll slip past,
And no chance to set eyes on the childer and Norah, the crathur, at last?
Sure, why else would we watch for the days gettin' dark, and the fields turnin' black,
And the win' keenin' could, if it warn't for a sign they were soon comin' back?
Troth, it's rael unnatural ould talk that long sorry I'd be to believe,
For the latest that ever they stayed, they were home agin come Holy Eve;
And now Lady Day's by, there's no terrible time to be waitin' at all,
Though it lags like an ass wid a load lettin' on it's scarce able to crawl,

And somewhiles when you're wakin' at night, or out sittin' alone in the sun,
You'll misdoubt it stands still; yet for sartin, they're nigher every hour we get done:
That's just raison and sinse. But she's wantin' the wit, I keep tellin' the wife,
That consaits she's as apt to be seein' them come any day of her life,
Till she's never quit hearin' the step, thinkin' Norah's run up our boreen—
She'd a right to know better, when, look where you will, not a cloud's to be seen.