  'Tis what they say, Thy little heel fits in a shoe. 'Tis what they say, Thy little mouth kisses well, too. 'Tis what they say, Thousand loves that you leave me to rue; That the tailor went the way That the wife of the Red man knew. Nine months did I spend In a prison closed tightly and bound; Bolts on my smalls And a thousand locks frowning around; But o'er the tide I would leap with the leap of a swan, Could I once set my side By the bride of the Red-haired man. I thought, O my life, That one house between us, love, would be; And I thought I would find You once coaxing my child on your knee; On him let it be, And on all of the band of the liars Who put silence between you and me. There grows a tree in the garden With blossoms that tremble and shake, I lay my hand on its bark And I feel that my heart must break. On one wish alone My soul through the long months ran, One little kiss From the wife of the Red-haired man. But the Day of Doom shall come, And hills and harbours be rent; A mist shall fall on the sun From the dark clouds heavily sent; The sea shall be dry, And earth under mourning and ban; Then loud shall he cry For the wife of the Red-haired man. Douglas Hyde. |
|
