by Arthur Stringer

Arthur Stringer


I TAMED me wanst a wee bird
 Taken from the rain;
I warmed it by me turf-fire
 And it grew strong again.
"And Hiven help," says I, "the cat
That harms a wee soft thing like that!"

No hurt nor harm came to it
 Close behind me wall,
But wan fine day in April
 I heard a wood-thrush call;
And as I watched me startled bird,
Faith, off it went widout a word!


I reared me wanst a wee gerrl
 As gentle as the May;
I kept her from the cold world,
 I watched her in her play:
"Gawd help the shtreel who'd iver try
To take that gerrl from me!" says I.

And yestereve I watched her
 Go creepin' through the gate,
And, hidin' like a white hare,
 Beyont the lough-head wait:
And when I spoke, "I'm off," says she ,
"To wed the lad who's 'waitin' me
And matin' me … across the Sea!"

Last updated January 14, 2019