Bog-land Studies By J. Barlow: 3rd ed |
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 | Bog-land Studies |  |
3
I
It mayn't be so much of a place whin ye reckon by land—Inish Fay—Just a thrifle o' fields and a bog like; but if ye considher the say,
Sure we've lashins an' lavins o' that, spreadin' out and away like a floor
To Ratheen at the end of our bay, that's as far as ye'll look from your door,
An' that far ye'd scarce look in a week to the west, where there isn't, I'm tould,
One dhry step 'twixt yer fut an' the States; sartin 'tis the long waves do come rowled
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Could swell up to the sizeablest bigness afore it lapt o'er on the beach.
Ay, we've plenty enough o' the say, an' good luck to't; I don't understand
How the folk keep continted at all that be settled far up on the land,
Out o' reach o' the tides; 'tis like livin' wid never a chance to be spied,
And what use is one's life widout chances? Ye've always a chance wid the tide;
For ye never can tell what 'twill take in its head to sthrew round on the shore;
Maybe dhrift-wood, or grand bits o' boards, that comes handy for splicin' an oar;
Or a crab skytin' back o'er the shine o' the wet— sure, whatever ye've found,
It's a sort o' diversion thim whiles when ye're starvin' an' sthreelin' around.
| Bog-land Studies | |