Chapter 3
Never was a moon so low it didn't find me courtin', Never blade I couldn't show a wilder way of sportin'. (Is it at the fair I'd be, the gentry'd troop to talk with me; Leapin' with delight was she,--the girl I'd choose to walk with me.) 'Twas I could win the pick of them from any lad or lover; Arrah! for the times before me dancin' days were over!
What's come to all the lads to-day,--these mournful ways they're keepin', Grudgin' any hour to play and wastin' nights in sleepin'. (Readin' be the chimney-place,--that dacent in their habits, You'd sooner get a fight or song be callin' upon rabbits.) Faith, I'd change the lot for one rejoicin', rantin' rover, _The like of me, myself, before me dancin' days were over._
SHEILA
Katie had the grand eyes and Delia had a way with her, And Mary had the Saints' face and Maggie's waist was neat, But Sheila had the merry heart that travelled all the day with her, That put the laughing on her lips and dancing in her feet.
I've met with martyrs in my time, and Faith! they make the best of it, But 'tis the uncomplaining ones that wear a sorrow long, 'Twas Sheila had the better way and that's to make a jest of it, To call her trouble out to dance and step it with a song.
Eh, but Sheila had the laugh the like of drink to weary ones, (I've never heard the beat of it for all I've wandered wide.) _And out of all the girls I knew the tender ones--the dreary ones,--_ _'Twas only Sheila of the laugh that broke her heart and died._
THE GRIEF
The heart of me's an empty thing, that never stirs at all For Moon-shine or Spring-time, or a far bird's call. I only know 'tis living by a grief that shakes it so,-- Like an East wind in Autumn, when the old nests blow.
Grey Eyes and Black Hair, 'tis never you I blame. 'Tis long years and easy years since last I spoke your name. And I'm long past the knife-thrust I got at wake or fair. Or looking past the lighted door and fancying you there.
Grey Eyes and Black Hair--the grief is never this; I've long forgot the soft arms--the first, wild kiss. But, Oh, girl that tore my youth,--'tis this I have to bear,-- _If you were kneeling at my feet I'd neither stay nor care._
THE INTRODUCTION
I'm askin' you'll be easy for a bit, Sir, The lad's had little but a thrush's schoolin', The blue skies and the fields, the little whipster, 'Tis time enough for something more--(But whisper) He'll go the better for an easy rulin'.
Herself was always for the bit of readin' But Denny here, he's great for growin' things, There's not a primrose that he'd not be heedin' Herself is right 'tis graver things he's needin' The thrush is tamer when you clip his wings.
I'd never have you spare him with the learnin', (And, Faith, 'tis little that the lad has had), But if above his task you'll see him turnin' To watch the fields--'tis just the thrush's yearnin'-- I'm askin' you'll be easy with the lad.
THE STAY-AT-HOME
Comin' or goin' still they spread the news, About America how grand it is, The wonders that are waitin' you to choose And gold that common that like sand it is. "And here you stick," says they. "Like some old tree Stuck in the bog belaboured by all seasons. What's ailin' ye?" says they. Well, leave them be, I have me reasons.
There's Cormac's Hugh come back with all his talk, Spreadin' and spendin' like a king he is. The people flockin' down the way he'll walk, Till in the middle of a ring he is. But where's that one whose face was like a rose The day he went, betwixt her tears and teasin's? Married these five years--gone where no man knows, Faith, I've me reasons.
"A likely lad," they say. "What's ailin' you, The gold and riches over there it is." Sure, I'm not doubtin' what they say is true They have me leave to hurry where it is. 'Tis I will hold the treasure that endures, The while I'm listenin' to their talks and treasons. _Oh, Sheila girl, those two blue eyes of yours,_ Faith, I've me reasons.