 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
50
OVER HERE
Oh, the praties they are small,
Over here, over here!
Oh, the praties they are small,
Over here!
Oh, the praties they are small,
And we dig them in the fall,
And we eat them coats and all,
Full of fear, full of fear.
Over here, over here!
Oh, the praties they are small,
Over here!
Oh, the praties they are small,
And we dig them in the fall,
And we eat them coats and all,
Full of fear, full of fear.
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
Night and morn, night and morn,
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
Night and morn!
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
For they live and die in peace,
Till the hour of their decease,
Stuffing corn, stuffing corn.
Night and morn, night and morn,
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
Night and morn!
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
For they live and die in peace,
Till the hour of their decease,
Stuffing corn, stuffing corn.
Oh, we're down into the dust,
Over here, over here!
Oh, we're down into the dust,
Over here!
Oh, we're down into the dust,
But the God in Whom we trust,
Will yet give us crumb for crust,
Over here, over here!
Over here, over here!
Oh, we're down into the dust,
Over here!
Oh, we're down into the dust,
But the God in Whom we trust,
Will yet give us crumb for crust,
Over here, over here!
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |