The Irish Farmer

Dear Judy, when first we got married
Our fortune indeed was but small,
For save the light hearts that we carried,
Our riches were nothing at all.
I sung while I rear'd up the cabin,
Ye pow'rs, give me vigour and health!
And a truce to all sighing and sobbing,
For love is Pat Mulligan's wealth.

Through summer and winter so dreary
I cheerily toil'd on the farm,
Nor ever once dream'd growing weary,
For love gave my labour its charm.
And now, though 'tis weak to be vaunty,
Yet here let us gratefully own,
We live amidst pleasure and plenty,
As happy's the king on the throne.

We've Murdoch, and Patrick, and Connor,
As fine little lads as you'll see,
And Kitty, sweet girl, 'pon my honour,
She's just the dear picture of thee.
Though some folks may still under-rate us,
Ah! why should we mind them a fig,
We've a large swinging field of potatoes,
A good drimindu and a pig.

Dear Judy, I've taken a thinking,
The children their letters must learn,
And we'll send for old father O'Jenkin
To teach them three months in the barn;
For learning's the way to promotion,
'Tis culture brings fruit from the sod,
And books give a fellow a notion
How matters are doing abroad.

Though father neglected my reading,
Kind soul! sure his spirit's in rest,
For the very first part of his breeding,
Was still to relieve the distrest;
And late, when the trav'ller benighted,
Besought hospitality's claim,
We lodg'd him 'till morning, delighted,
Because 'twas a lesson to them.

The man that wont feel for another,
Is just like a colt on the moor,
He lives without knowing a brother
To frighten bad luck from his door.
But he that's kind-hearted and steady,
Though wintry misfortune should come,
He'll still find some friend who is ready,
To scare the old witch from his home.

Success to Ould Ireland for ever!
'Tis just the dear land to my mind,
Her lads are warm-hearted and clever,
Her girls are all handsome and kind;
And he that her name would bespatter,
By wishing the French safely o'er,
May the de'il blow him over the water,
And make him cook frogs for the core!

by Robert Tannahill

Comments (4)

nice piece of work with attitude.................keep writing pal..............
An interesting take on 'awakening.' It is even more frightening to realize that we can wake up from a dream and find a nightmare, erase our illusion to plunge into delusion. Thought provoking.
A 10/10 for all those thoughts and the creativity..... GOOD WORK.
Zarina I do like your poem very much and identify with the sadness you feel for the world. I have had the pleasure of knowing wealthy psople who care a great deal for their employees and donate generously to their communities with both time and money. But as you say there is no shortage of callous rich folks. Arrogance is not automatically the domain of the wealthy. All thieves are arrogant and steal mostly from the poor and elderly.