  Douglas Hyde. I am watching my young calves sucking; Who are you that would put me out of my luck? Can I not be walking, can I not be walking, Can I not be walking on my own farm-lands? I will not for ever go back before you, If I must needs be submissive to thee, great is my grief; If I cannot be walking, if I cannot be walking, If I cannot be walking on my own farm-lands. Little heed I pay, and 'tis little my desire, Thy fine blue cloak and thy bright bird's plumes, If I cannot be walking, if I cannot be walking, If I cannot be walking on my own farm-lands! There is a day coming, it is plain to my eyes, When there will not be amongst us the mean likes of you; But each will be walking, each will be walking, Wherever he will on his own farm-lands. |
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