Poems (Tynan)/An Island Fisherman
AN ISLAND FISHERMAN
I groan as I put out My nets on the say, To hear the little girshas shout, Dancin' among the spray.
Ochone, the childher pass An' lave us to our grief; The stranger took my little lass At the fall o' the leaf.
Why would you go so fast With him you never knew? In all the throuble that is past I never frowned on you.
The light of my old eyes, The comfort o' my heart. Waitin' for me your mother lies In blessed Innishart.
Her lone grave I keep From all the cold world wide; But you in life an' death will sleep The stranger beside.
Ochone! my thoughts are wild; But little blame I say; An ould man hungerin' for his child, Fishin' the livelong day.
You will not run again Laughin' to see me land. O what was pain an' throuble then, Holdin' your little hand?
Or when your head let fall Its soft curls on my breast? Why do the childher grow at all To love the stranger best?