Imleabhar: CBÉ 0485 (Cuid 2)

Ar an leathanach seo

1. To the Old Men and Women of My Native Village (ar lean)

   

   Roinn Roinn Postáil

   (ar lean ón leathanach roimhe)

   Who trod the midnight hours away
   Beside the spinning wheel?
   Who tossed the shuttle till the day
   Crept o'er the eastern hilltops grey,
   Or turned the whirling reel?

   Who cut the mighty bogs away
   And wooed the stubborn soil
   To yield such fields of upland clay
   And smiling homes along the way,
   Fit monitors of toil?

   You and the master guiding hand
   Of him who rules above.
   Gave us those hills and valleys grand -
   Gave us this pleasant happy land -
   The Village that we love.

   You often think as girl or boy,
   Watched o'er by parent love;
   You dreamed of life made up of joy,
   Of golden truth without alloy,
   Of hope laid up above

   (leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)

   

   Tras-scríofa ag duine dár meitheal tras-scríbhneoirí deonacha.

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   • John J. Walsh