  When I rose up in the morning early On a sunny day in the burst of spring, My step was lithe, and my form was burly, I felt as blithe as a bird on the wing; As I was going out my way Who should stand in the path but Death; I knew he was strong, and would not be said nay, So I wished him "Good-morrow,"—but I caught my breath, When, "Hurry on, Shawn, for I'm wanting you to come with me," he saith. Oh, then, Maura, is it parting I am from you, My thousand loves for ever on earth? I who would plant the potatoes for you, I whom you needed to cut the turf! I who would buy you the young milch cow, I who would croon you to sleep with a rann, I who at eve would lie down with your leave— What ever would you do without your man? O Maura, keep me with you a little, little longer, if you can! "There's many an old man down in the town, And no manner of use or abuse in him more; Begging his scraps from door to door; And his wife and children famished with cold Trying to find him his bit of bread; O Death, 'tis your right to take the old— And they say that Dominic's wrong in his head— O Death, take Dominic with you, for 'tis badly I'm wanted here," I said. "It's a fine man you are, but you stand in my way, I'd be thankful you'd let me get on to my fields;" He raised his arm, it was cold as clay, And strong as the flail the thresher wields. I tried to push him out of my road, But his bony fingers clutched me tight; "I am your comrade henceforth," he said, "Another man tends your sheep to-night; Hurry home, Shawn, I call for you again before the morning's light." |
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