  "O Druimin donn dilish, True Flower of the Kine, Say, where art thou hiding, Sad Mother of mine?" "I lurk in the wild wood, No human ear hears (Save my brave lads around me) My fast-falling tears. "Gone my broad lands and homesteads, My music and wine, No chieftains attend me No hostings are mine. Stale bread and cold water The whole of my hoard, While the warm wine flows freely Round the enemy's board." "Could we utter our minds To those smart English rogues, As we beat our old brogues! We would whip them through thorns On a damp, foggy day, O'er the cliffs, my Donn dilish, We would chase them away!" FOOTNOTES: |
|
