Bog-land studies

It mayn’t be so much of a place whin ye reckon by land--Inish Fay-- Just a thrifle o’ fields and a bog like; but if ye considher the say, Sure we’ve lashins an’ lavins o’ that,...

An’ so that was the end of it all. An’ the sorrowful end tubbe sure, Whin our luck was turned back into throuble no power in creation could cure. There he lay, ’twixt the sod an...

Betther nor thirty year sin’ Barney M‘Gurk set up Here by the ould cross-roads, and, begorra, there’s many a sup I’ve tuk sittin’ snug be the hearth in the corner he calls me ow...

But that instant he stepped round the end o’ the turf-stack fornint the boreen, Wid a scarlet to aquil the poppies ablaze on his bit o’ coateen, And his belts and his straps and...

For the boys comin’ up from the Mass down at Moyna, a while later on, Found him dhropped of a hape be the path past Kilogue wid the life of him gone; An’ th’ ould male-bag gripp...

Ah, but Norah, you’re perished an’ thrimblin’ wid could, sittin’ here in the win’; Did you bring ne’er a wrap to rowl round you, machree, now the night’s closin’ in? For there’s...