| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
456 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
||
|
His fleshless hands are stiff and wan,
Ay—time is even blending The colors on his threadbare " bag "—
And " Pinch " is twice as hairy And " thin-spare" 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, " Deary, 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, a vie machfee," he sobbed,
" Is all the merry-making 1 found here twenty years ago ? "
" My tale," I sighed, " might 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, as tore machree,
And I'll go home to-morrow. 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." |
||