For the Fair Colleen
Across the moorlandflowing with bog cottonas white as snow,a wee black hooseempty topples,the spinning wheelhas froze and rustand crottle grows the chairwhere mammy, who nursedthe fair colleen,lies unforgotton. The scream: “níl aon ní úr faoin spéirach leis imeacht aimsirefearr is agamsa atá a fhiosthafearr is agamsa atá a fhios agus an bhuil a fhios agat … Read more