Bog-land Studies By J. Barlow: 3rd ed |
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 | Bog-land Studies |  |
III
But, throth, I remember the mornin' we started
for Ballynagraile
To fetch home ould Andy O'Rourke, who'd a twelvemonth in Limerick jail
For fright'nin' the bailiffs—divil mend thim—that
dhruv off his mare for the tithe,
And Andy he bid thim begone, or he'd shorten their legs wid his scythe.
So we all were assembled to meet him; ye never beheld such a throng,
Down the lenth o' the sthreet, wid folk standin' to see us come marchin' along;
'Twas as pleasant a mornin' in April as ever shone out o' the sky,
An' the brass of our insthruments gleamin' was fit to ha' dazzled your eye;
But the pólis looked cross as the dogs, 'cause they couldn't be rights interfere
To hinder our lads o' their playin'; bedad! an' ye felt, whin ye'd hear
How they wint like the thundher an' lightnin', that afther the dhrum an' the fife
Ye could step to the end o' the world, wid all the pleasure in life.
To fetch home ould Andy O'Rourke, who'd a twelvemonth in Limerick jail
79
And Andy he bid thim begone, or he'd shorten their legs wid his scythe.
So we all were assembled to meet him; ye never beheld such a throng,
Down the lenth o' the sthreet, wid folk standin' to see us come marchin' along;
'Twas as pleasant a mornin' in April as ever shone out o' the sky,
An' the brass of our insthruments gleamin' was fit to ha' dazzled your eye;
But the pólis looked cross as the dogs, 'cause they couldn't be rights interfere
To hinder our lads o' their playin'; bedad! an' ye felt, whin ye'd hear
How they wint like the thundher an' lightnin', that afther the dhrum an' the fife
Ye could step to the end o' the world, wid all the pleasure in life.
80
An' close where I waited, I mind, there came
hobblin' outside of his door
An ould ancient man, I can't tell ye his name— I'd ne'er seen him before—
All doubled in two, wid a beard like a fleece, an' scarce able to stand,
For he shook like a bough in the win', tho' he laned on a stick in each hand.
But to notice the glint of his eye, whin they sthruck up Saint Pathrick; bedad,
If he'd had thim same eyes in his feet, it's a jig he'd ha' danced there like mad;
On'y just the wan minute; for thin he stared round, seemin' sthrange to the place,
Till he turned away back to his door wid a quare sort o' look on his face,
As if he was layin' his hand off o' somethin' he liefer 'ud hould,
An' soft to himself I heard him: ‘Sure I'm ould,’ sez he, ‘sure I'm ould.’
An ould ancient man, I can't tell ye his name— I'd ne'er seen him before—
All doubled in two, wid a beard like a fleece, an' scarce able to stand,
For he shook like a bough in the win', tho' he laned on a stick in each hand.
But to notice the glint of his eye, whin they sthruck up Saint Pathrick; bedad,
If he'd had thim same eyes in his feet, it's a jig he'd ha' danced there like mad;
On'y just the wan minute; for thin he stared round, seemin' sthrange to the place,
Till he turned away back to his door wid a quare sort o' look on his face,
As if he was layin' his hand off o' somethin' he liefer 'ud hould,
An' soft to himself I heard him: ‘Sure I'm ould,’ sez he, ‘sure I'm ould.’
| Bog-land Studies | |