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Bog-land Studies

By J. Barlow: 3rd ed
Barlow, Jane (1857?-1917)

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TH' OULD MASTER
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WALLED OUT
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LAST TIME AT M'GURK'S
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BY THE BOG-HOLE
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PAST PRAYING FOR OR, THE SOUPER'S WIDOW
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MISS HONOR'S WEDDING
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A CURLEW'S CALL

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V

An' soon afther thin, it so happint, things grew so conthráry an' bad,
I fell to wond'rin' a dale if beyant there's aught betther at all to be had;
54

For the blacker this ould world looks, an' the more ye're bothered an' vexed,
The more ye'll be cravin' an' longin' for somethin' else in the next;
While whinever there's little that ails ye, an' all goes slither as grase,
Ye don't so much as considher, bedad, if there's e'er such a place.
The same as a man comin' home from his work of a winther's night,
Whin the wind's like ice, an' the snow an' the rain have him perished outright,
His heart'll be set on a good turf blaze up the chimney roarin' an' red,
That'll put the life in him agin afore he goes to his bed;
Tho' on summer evenin's, whin soft as silk was every breath that wint,
He'd never have axed for a fire, but turned to his sleep contint.
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