The Mockers and other Verses By Jane Barlow |
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 | The Mockers and other Verses |  |
30
IX
Well, the weddin' was fixed for that Shrove, when the year took a leanin' towards spring;
And the day come wid never a speck on the wather or sky to be found,
Save a lark singin' songs for divarsion, or maybe a little gull's wing
Sittin' white on the smooth of the say, and we startin' to sail o'er the Sound,
Three big boat-loads, wid Killerone Chapel forenent us, that stands on its height
Lookin' down from the cliff to the harbour. And flashin' around and around,
Like the footprints of crathurs we couldn't behowld dancin' wild wid delight,
All the sun-sparkles blinked. And the whole way across 'twas the great times we had,
Wid the bride and the groom sittin' aft, and Mick Sullivan fiddlin' like mad
In the bows; and meself next the mother of Felix, that thought ne'er was born
In the width of the world man or mortal could offer to aquil her lad,
Unless Dermot belike. The proud woman she was. “But, sad pity,” says she,
“'Tis of Maureen's poor mother that hadn't the luck to be livin' this morn.”
And the day come wid never a speck on the wather or sky to be found,
Save a lark singin' songs for divarsion, or maybe a little gull's wing
Sittin' white on the smooth of the say, and we startin' to sail o'er the Sound,
Three big boat-loads, wid Killerone Chapel forenent us, that stands on its height
Lookin' down from the cliff to the harbour. And flashin' around and around,
Like the footprints of crathurs we couldn't behowld dancin' wild wid delight,
All the sun-sparkles blinked. And the whole way across 'twas the great times we had,
Wid the bride and the groom sittin' aft, and Mick Sullivan fiddlin' like mad
In the bows; and meself next the mother of Felix, that thought ne'er was born
31
Unless Dermot belike. The proud woman she was. “But, sad pity,” says she,
“'Tis of Maureen's poor mother that hadn't the luck to be livin' this morn.”
So we come to the harbour as plisant as plisant, and what should we see
Save owld Owen MacDonnell himself sittin' low by the steps where you land,
Like a little owld leprecaun perched on the stones that were slithery wid wrack
At the pier-end. And there Maureen spied him, and straightways was fear widenin' black
In her eyes. “Och I'm dreadin',” says she, “some great harm there is plotted and planned
'Gin the two of us, Felix; for yonder he's watchin' to see me come back
As he towld us that night.” But says Dermot MacNeill that was standin' anear:
“Now step on wid yous all to the chapel,” says he, “for behind yous I'll stay
Till I have the owld miscreant persuaded to roost out of that. And no fear,
Ne'er a chance will he get to be throublin' the wife of you, talkin' this day
Of your bride and your widow. Speed off to your weddin'; I'll wait for you here,
When 'tis over and done,” so says he.
And the rest of us trooped up the lane,
That run straight 'twixt two high sandy banks, glarin' white in a glow to the door
Of the chapel, night-dark at its end. Sure it seemed next to no time before
Out we stepped again, under the shine of the sun, nigh too bright to see plain,
Every one of us laughin' at Felix and Maureen, and givin' them joy,
And they walkin' along man and wife, lookin' nought but a girl and a boy.
Save owld Owen MacDonnell himself sittin' low by the steps where you land,
Like a little owld leprecaun perched on the stones that were slithery wid wrack
At the pier-end. And there Maureen spied him, and straightways was fear widenin' black
In her eyes. “Och I'm dreadin',” says she, “some great harm there is plotted and planned
'Gin the two of us, Felix; for yonder he's watchin' to see me come back
As he towld us that night.” But says Dermot MacNeill that was standin' anear:
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Till I have the owld miscreant persuaded to roost out of that. And no fear,
Ne'er a chance will he get to be throublin' the wife of you, talkin' this day
Of your bride and your widow. Speed off to your weddin'; I'll wait for you here,
When 'tis over and done,” so says he.
And the rest of us trooped up the lane,
That run straight 'twixt two high sandy banks, glarin' white in a glow to the door
Of the chapel, night-dark at its end. Sure it seemed next to no time before
Out we stepped again, under the shine of the sun, nigh too bright to see plain,
Every one of us laughin' at Felix and Maureen, and givin' them joy,
And they walkin' along man and wife, lookin' nought but a girl and a boy.
| The Mockers and other Verses | |