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A Ballad
MY Noney, lay your work aside | |
| For I have news to tell: | |
| I met a friend, a dear old friend— | |
| We’ve known him long and well; | |
| When you were but a toddling babe | 5 |
| He danced you on his knee; | |
| But oh! ’twas in the good old times, | |
| At home in Carriglea. | |
| |
| Just now amidst the busy crowd, | |
| As I was toiling on | 10 |
| With drooping heart and flagging steps, | |
| His mild glance on me shone; | |
| His voice seemed like an angel’s voice, | |
| With such sweet sympathy | |
| He talked of all the good old times | 15 |
| At home in Carriglea. | |
| |
| He clasped my hand in his warm grasp, | |
| His kind eyes filled with tears, | |
| To see me look so thin and wan | |
| After those weary years; | 20 |
| And gazing in his face I thought | |
| I ne’er had crossed the sea, | |
| But still was playing hide and seek | |
| At home in Carriglea. | |
| |
| Once more I saw its rose-crowned porch, | 25 |
| And the little stream close by, | |
| Where oft we watched the young brikeens 1 | |
| Or paddled on the sly; | |
| Or in the sunny summer days | |
| Climbed up the old oak tree; | 30 |
| Oh! we were happy children then, | |
| At home in Carriglea. | |
| |
| How softly on our curly locks | |
| My mother’s hands would rest, | |
| She’d pat each sunburnt, rosy cheek, | 35 |
| And press us to her breast; | |
| You, Noney dear, when tired of play, | |
| Would nestle lovingly | |
| Within her tender sheltering arms | |
| At home in Carriglea. | 40 |
| |
| When you were only six years old | |
| There came a woeful change, | |
| Dear mother, always sad and pale, | |
| Poor father wild and strange,— | |
| He’d rave of cruel landlords, | 45 |
| And curse their tyranny. | |
| His proud heart broke, the day he left | |
| His home in Carriglea. | |
| |
| And with the falling of the leaf | |
| My mother faded, too; | 50 |
| And as I watched her hour by hour | |
| More and more weak she grew; | |
| The night she died, she blessed us both | |
| So sadly, tenderly, | |
| That all the kindly neighbours wept | 55 |
| At home in Carriglea. | |
| |
| Oh! may God bless the faithful friends | |
| Who, in the hour of need, | |
| Thronged round the lonely orphan girls. | |
| Oh! they were friends indeed: | 60 |
| And he, the truest, kindest, best, | |
| Has come across the sea, | |
| To take a wife and sister home— | |
| Home, home to Carriglea. | |
