Bog-land Studies By J. Barlow: 3rd ed |
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 | Bog-land Studies |  |
VII
So I sat in the door not long afther, whin Judy
O'Neill comes by,
An': ‘Bedad, Mick Flynn, ye're an ould man grown,’ sez she; an': ‘Git out!’ sez I.
But as soon as she'd passed I stepped round to
the field that the lads were in,
For I thought I'd been idlin' enough, an”twas time I set to it agin.
An': ‘Bedad, Mick Flynn, ye're an ould man grown,’ sez she; an': ‘Git out!’ sez I.
88
For I thought I'd been idlin' enough, an”twas time I set to it agin.
They were diggin' the first of the praties; I smelt
thim 'fore ever I came,
An' I dunno a pleasanter scent in the world than the smell o' thim same,
Whin ye thrust down your spade or your fork, an' ye turn thim up hangin' in clumps,
Wid the skins o' thim yeller an' smooth, an' the clay shakin' off thim in lumps.
They'd a creel on the bank be the gate, an' Pat called from his end o' the dhrill
To be bringin' it up where he was, for he wanted another to fill;
And I thought to ha' lifted it light, but I'd betther ha' let it alone,
Tho' 'twas hardly three-parts full, an' 'ud hould but a couple o' stone;
For I hadn't the strenth to hoist it, and over it
wint wid a pitch,
An' there like a sthookaun I stood, an' the praties rowled in the ditch.
An' I dunno a pleasanter scent in the world than the smell o' thim same,
Whin ye thrust down your spade or your fork, an' ye turn thim up hangin' in clumps,
Wid the skins o' thim yeller an' smooth, an' the clay shakin' off thim in lumps.
They'd a creel on the bank be the gate, an' Pat called from his end o' the dhrill
To be bringin' it up where he was, for he wanted another to fill;
And I thought to ha' lifted it light, but I'd betther ha' let it alone,
Tho' 'twas hardly three-parts full, an' 'ud hould but a couple o' stone;
89
An' there like a sthookaun I stood, an' the praties rowled in the ditch.
But Pat, whin he seen I was vexed, up he come
an' laid hould o' me arm,
An' he bid me never to mind, for there wasn't a ha'porth o' harm.
An' sez I: ‘I'm not able for aught.’ An' sez he: ‘Dad, ye've worked in your day
Like a Trojin, an' now ye've a right to your rest, while we'll wrastle away.
Sure it's many a creel ye've loaded afore I'd the strenth or the wit;
And ye needn't be throublin' your head, for there's plinty of help I'll git;
Here's Larry an' Tim grown sizeable lads, an' Joe'll soon be lendin' a hand—
So ye'll just sit quite in your corner, an' see that we'll git on grand.’
An' he bid me never to mind, for there wasn't a ha'porth o' harm.
An' sez I: ‘I'm not able for aught.’ An' sez he: ‘Dad, ye've worked in your day
Like a Trojin, an' now ye've a right to your rest, while we'll wrastle away.
Sure it's many a creel ye've loaded afore I'd the strenth or the wit;
And ye needn't be throublin' your head, for there's plinty of help I'll git;
Here's Larry an' Tim grown sizeable lads, an' Joe'll soon be lendin' a hand—
So ye'll just sit quite in your corner, an' see that we'll git on grand.’
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And he said it as kind as could be, yet me heart
felt as heavy as lead,
And I wint to the door, and I sat in the sun, but I wished I was dead.
And I wint to the door, and I sat in the sun, but I wished I was dead.
| Bog-land Studies | |