by Arthur Stringer
Sure , many's the sailorin' lad
Went singin' and rockin' free
Out over the Ocean's rim
As happy as us, machree!
But many's the time, me lad —
Such ends the ould world brings —
That over the laugh and last av him
'Tis the sea that rocks and swings!
And many's the boy wid a plough
Who'd sing at the break av day
As he turned the mold wid his share
And buried the grass away!
But many's the same lad, now
That sootherin' greensward won,
And over his gray bones there
'Tis the grass that sings in the sun!
Last updated January 14, 2019