poetry

[annette250]

In Poetry, which fish asked a snail to walk a little faster?

[horselady]

the Whiting

[Cetti]

"Will you walk a little faster?"
Said a whiting to a snail,
"There's a porpoise close behind us,
And he's treading on my tail.

Part of the Lobster Quadrille from Alice's Adventures In Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.

[BARNEYKX]

The Ballad of the Tinker’s Daughter*
by Sigerson Clifford

When rooks ripped home at eventide and trees pegged their shadows to the ground
The tinkers came to Carhan Bridge and camped beside the Famine mound.
With long-eared ass and bony horse and with blue-wheeled cart and caravan
And she the fairest of them all the daughter of the tinker clan.

O the sun flamed in her red, red hair and in her eyes there were stars of mirth
Her body held the willow’s grace and her feet scarce touched the springing earth.
The night spread its star-tasseled shawls; the river gossiped to her stones
She sat beside the camping fire and she sang the songs the tinker owns.

All the songs as old as turning wheels and sweet as the bird-throats after rain
Deep wisdom of the wild wet earth; the pain of joy, the joy of pain.
A farmer going by the road to tend his cattle in the byre
He saw her like some fairy queen between the river and the fire.

And her beauty stirred his brooding blood; her magic mounted all in his head.
He stole her from the tinker clan and on the morrow they were wed.
And when the sunlight swamped the hills and bird-song drowned the river’s bells
The tinkers quenched their hazel fires and climbed the pallid road to Kells.

It was from her house she watched them fade and vanish in the yellow furze
A cold wind blew across the sun and it silenced all the singing birds.
She saw the months run on and on, she saw the river fret and foam
At break of day the roosters called; at dim of dusk the cows came home.

The crickets strummed their heated harps in hidden halls all behind the hob
And they told of distant waterways where the black moorhens dive and bob
And shoot the glassy bubbles up to smash their windows on the stones
And brown trout hide their spots of gold among the river’s pebbled bones.

And too the ebbing sea that flung a net of sound all about the stars,
It set strange hills dancing in her dreams and it meshed her to the wandering cars.
She stole out from her sleeping man; she fled the fields that tied her down
Her face moved towards the rising sun; her back was to the tired town.

And she climbed the pallid road to Kells against the hill and all against the wind
In Glenbeigh of the mountain-streams she came upon her tinker-kind.
They bedded her between the wheels and there her son was born
She heard the tinker-woman’s praise before she died that morn.

Now the years flew by like frightened birds that spill a feather and then are gone
The farmer walked his weedful fields and he made the tinkers travel on.
No more they camped by Carhan Bridge or coaxed their fires to fragrant flame
They saw him with his dog and his gun; they spat and cursed his name.

And when May hid the hawthorn trees with stars she stole from out the skies
There came a barefoot tinker lad with red, red hair and laughing eyes.
He left the road, he crossed the fields; the farmer shot him in the side
The smile went from his twisting lips; he told his name and died.

And that evening when the neighbours came they found the son there upon the floor
They saw the farmer swinging low between the window and the door.
They placed the son upon a cart and they cut the swaying farmer down
They swear a tinker woman came with them all the way to town.

And the sun flamed in her red, red hair and in her eyes there danced stars of mirth
Her body held the willow’s grace and her feet scarced touched the springing earth.
They buried them in Keelvarnogue and eyes were moist and lips were wan
And when the mound was patted down the tinker maid was gone.
***************

[BARNEYKX]

Written by a lisburn man Bill Brownlee who moved to scotland some years ago he settled in Grangemouth

THE TRAMP

In a lonely part of Ireland,near the town of Mullingar

We were gathered in the evening,in a little village bar

Through the door there came a stranger,just a tramp

he seemed to be

In his face the sign of hunger,almost anyone could see

But he brought a breath of summer,as he slowly wandered in

Dressed in rags that someone gave him,and the boots

now worn so thin

Someones son my mind was thinking,someone fallen

by the way

Or perhaps a long lost father,who had seen a better day

Could i join you for a minute,just before i go my way

In a voice as sweet as music,mindful of a summer day

I have wandered o'er the moorland ,seen the rising of

the sun,And my poor old feet are weary ,lifes hard battle

must be won

To a seat i saw him totter,heard the whisper of a sigh,

Then i saw the old face brighted,with a twink.e in the eye

Lonely there he sat and listened,to the stories that were told

Someones son or father ,who had wandered from the fold

Surely there must be a story,hidden somewhere in the

breast,

Of a tramp who roams the moorland,something different

from the rest

As i made my wayto join him,something told me

he was glad

Folk around me gazed in wonder,some they even

thought me mad

Thank you sir,i heard him saying

Lonlinesscan bring a chill

Maybe i should tell a story

Though with tears my eyesthey fill

In my youth i was an artist,painted pictures by the score

Then one day i found an angel,married her in Annaghmore

I was happy with my ,sunshine came our way

And eack night we knelt together,just to meditate and pray

But a fhief he came and stle her ,took the flower I

cherished rare,

Isn,t there a god in heaven to protect a life so fair

Did you ever lose a fortune,did you lose your only friend

Did the sunshine never bless you,nor the lonely not bend

Did you ever see the finger,pointed at you all the day

Broken hearts are never mended,in this hard and cruel way

I left home with all its sadness,left the place where i

was born

Made the sky my onlt blanket,and my friend a

sundecked morn

When they told me she was dying,even after all

the years

Like a baby i was crying,finding solace in my tears

To the place where she is lying,every year i

make my way

And i place a wreath of roses, on that brown and

sacred clay

Roses plucked from out the hedgerows,but she seen

them just the same

And i know she hears me whisper,as i quietly breathe

her name

You may ask why i remember,why she's always in

my dreams

But true love is ne'er forgotten,and a fond smile

always beams

I forgave and granted pardon,even in my prayers i say

That a souls not lost to heaven,just for erring

on the way

Summer brings its gladness,and the birds

sing high above

Just to bring me consolation,an an atmosphere

of love

But a tramp in lonely exilemstill within his native land

Must keep trying,just keep trying,only god san understand

Thank you, sir, for all your goodness,i must now be on

my way

I have many miles to wander,ere i meditate and pray

God alone now brings me comfort,only he can give

me peace

Till this worldshall mark me absent,ans all worry

it shall cease

In a lonely part of Ireland,near the town of Mullingar

We were gathered in the evening ,in a little village bar,

Through the door there passed a stranger,just a tramp

he seemed to be

In his face the sign of heaven ,almost anyone could see

[BARNEYKX]

Caoch O'Leary
John Keegan 1809-1849
One winter's day, long, long ago,
When I was a little fellow,
A piper wandered to our door,
Grey-headed, blind and yellow;
And, how glad was my young heart
Though earth and sky looked dreary,
To see the stranger and his dog -
Poor Pinch and Caoch O'Leary.
And when he stowed away his bag,
Cross-barred with green and yellow,
I thought and said, "In Ireland's ground
There's not so fine a fellow."
And Fineen Burke, and Shaun Magee,
And Eily, Kate and Mary,
Rushed in with panting haste to see
And welcome Caoch O'Leary.
O God be with those happy times
O God be with my childhood.
When I bareheaded roamed all day
Bird nesting in the wildwood
I'll not forget those sunny hours
However years may vary.
I'll not forget my early friends
Nor honest Caoch O'Leary.
Poor Caoch and Pinch slept well that night,
And in the morning early
He called me up to hear him play
"The wind that shakes the barley:"
And then he stroked my flaxen hair
And cried, "God mark my deary"
And how I wept when he said "Farewell,
And think of Caoch O'Leary."
And seasons came and went, and still
Old Caoch was not forgotten,
Although we thought him dead and gone
And in the cold grave rotten:
And often when I walked and talked
With Eily, Kate or Mary,
We thought of childhood's rosy hours
And prayed for Caoch O'Leary.
Well twenty summers had gone past,
And June's red sun was sinking,
When I, a man, sat by my door,
Of twenty sad things thinking.
A little dog came up the way,
His gait was slow and weary,
And at his tail a lame man limped -
'Twas Pinch and Caoch O'Leary.
Old Caoch, but O how woebegone!
His form is bowed and bending,
His fleshless hands are stiff and wan,
Ay, time is even blending
The colours on his threadbare bag;
And Pinch is twice as hairy
And thinspare as when first I saw
Himself and Caoch O'Leary.
"God's blessing here!" the wanderer cried,
"Far, far be hell's black viper:
Does anybody hereabouts
Remember Caoch the Piper?"
With swelling heart I grasped his hand,
The old man murmured. "Dreary,
Are you the silky-headed child
That loved poor Caoch O'Leary?"
"Yes, yes," I said—the wanderer wept
As if his heart was breaking—
"And where, avic-machree," he sobbed,
"Is all the merry-making
I found here twenty years ago
"My tale," I sighed, "mighty weary:
Enough to say there's none but me
To welcome Caoch O'Leary."
"Vo, vo, vo!" the old man cried
And wrung his hands in sorrow:
"Pray let me in, astore machree,
And I'll go home tomorrow.
My peace is made, I'll go home tomorrow.
My peace is made, I'll calmly leave
This world so cold and dreary;
And you shall keep my pipes and dog, And pray for Caoch O'Leary."
With Pinch I watched his bed that night,
Next day his wish was granted,
He died and Father James was brought,
And the Requiem Mass was chanted.
The neighbours came, to dig his grave
Near Eily, Kate and Mary.
And there he sleeps his last final sleep—
God rest you Caoch O'Leary.

[BARNEYKX]

The Silver Tanner

I was on my way to school one day,
Feeling slightly down
When i spotted something shiney,
Lying upon the ground,
it was a silver sixpence
so bright, and looking new,
I quickley stooped to pick it up,
for tanners are so few,
now what shall i do with this i said
as a thought came to my head,
I'll take it home to mummy,
It'll buy a loaf of bread,
so i turned and ran back home again
the tanner held tightly in my hand
it made me late for school that day
for it was a brave wee bit away
but when i found that tanner
that was a lucky day,
why have you come home agaim,
said mummy with a frown,
cause i've found a silver tanner,
it was lying on the ground
I just thought of you dear mummy
for with it you can buy some bread,
she looked at me, and gave a gentle smile
you can keep that silver tanner son
at least for just a little while
be off to school, and you'll have to run
for spending that silver tanner will give
you so much fun