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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 155 |
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As long as there's plenty o' milk to churn, An' plenty o' pyaties in ridge an' furrow,
By the winter fire we'll laugh to scorn The frown o' famine an' scowl o' sorrow.
11
There's a time to work, an' a time to talk;
So, Patsy, my boy, your pratin' shtop ! By Midsummer Day, blossom an' stalk,
We'll feast our eyes on a right good crop. Oh, the purple blossoms, so full o' joy,
Burstin' up from our Irish loam, They're betther than gold to the peasant boy;
They crown him king in his Irish home !
As long as the cows have milk to churn, With plenty o' pyaties in ridge an' furrow,
By the winter hearth we'll laugh to scorn The frown o' famine an' scowl o' sorrow.
in
A year ago we wor full o' hope,
For the stalks wor green by the First o' May, But the brown blight fell over field an' slope,
An' the poreens' rotted by Lady Day. You'd dig a ridge for a creel in vain;
But he left us still our dacint friends; If it comes again we won't complain —
His will be done !—it's the besht he sends!
As long as we've plenty o' milk to churn, An' plenty o' pyaties in ridge an' furrow, |
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1 Poreens, small potatoes. |
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