(For Aedh)
'Tis the queerest trade we have, the two of us that go about,
I that do the talkin', and the little lad that sings,
We to tell the story of a Land you ought to know about,--
The wonder land of Erin and the memories it brings.
Sure it is a wonder land, richer than the books it is,
Full of magic stories and a hopeful heart of song;
Faith, and near the mountains and the sunny lakes and brooks it is,
Like the olden seanichies, the pair of us belong.
Far and broad our journeyin' , up and down the land we go,
Today among the mountains and tomorrow by the sea;
Pleasant are the roads with us, and to a welcome grand we go,
Erin wins the heart of you, whoever you may be.
Erin's heart will capture you, if you will but listen now,
Great she was afore the Danes and all her Saxon foes,
After that the sorrows came, sure your eyes will glisten now,
Up, my lad, and sing for them "The Dark Little Rose."
Rest awhile and I will tell the fame of Tara's Hall to them,
All the deeds of valor and a thousand scenes of joy,
Wicklow hills and Derry fields where Killarney calls to them.
Come, my lad, it's Ninety-Eight and sing "The Croppy Boy."
Long ago the stranger came and learned to love the ways of her,
Irish more than Irish the Norman foe became;
Sure and here across the sea you give your hearts to praise of her,
The tear and smile within her eyes that ever are the same.
Not for gold or little fame the two of us to go about,
I that do the talkin', and the little lad that sings,
We to win your love for her, the Land you're glad to know about,
The wonder land of Erin and the memories it brings.