 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
THE HOOD HAMMOCK
Though the way be long and weary
Over mountain, under wood,
Mother will never mind it, deary,
With you hammocked in her hood.
Over mountain, under wood,
Mother will never mind it, deary,
With you hammocked in her hood.
Hush! my honey! See, my sonny,
How from off the Autumn trees
Sparkling showers of fairy money
Fall and flutter in the breeze!
How from off the Autumn trees
Sparkling showers of fairy money
Fall and flutter in the breeze!
Hush! the Queen bee to her levee,
Buzz-a-buzz! with humming sport,
From the blossoms in a bevy
Calls her golden glancing court.
Buzz-a-buzz! with humming sport,
From the blossoms in a bevy
Calls her golden glancing court.
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Hark! the cushats without number
In the tree-tops o'er our track
“Coo-a-coo!” to smiling slumber
Coax the boyo on my back.
In the tree-tops o'er our track
“Coo-a-coo!” to smiling slumber
Coax the boyo on my back.
Shoheen sho ho! lulla lo lo!
Safe from sight and sound of harm,
Dream till daddy lifts his laddy
Laughing up upon his arm.
Dream! Dream!
Safe from sight and sound of harm,
Dream till daddy lifts his laddy
Laughing up upon his arm.
Dream! Dream!
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |