The County Mayo

Song Cycle by Joan Trimble (1915 - 2005)

Word count: 430

2. Peggy Mitchell [sung text not yet checked]

As lily grows up easily,
In modest, gentle, dignity
To sweet perfection,
So grew she,
As easily!

Or as the rose,
That takes no care,
Will open out, on sunny air
Bloom after bloom,
Fair after fair;
Just so did she
As carelessly!

She is our torment without end!
She is our enemy, our friend!
Our joy, our woe!
And she will send
Madness or glee,
To you or me,
And endlessly.

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

2. The County Mayo [sung text not yet checked]

Now with the coming in of the spring
  the days will stretch a bit,
And after the Feast of Brigid I shall
  hoist my flag and go,
For since the thought got into my
  head I can neither stand nor sit
Until I find myself in the middle of
  the County of Mayo.

In Claremorris I would stop a night
  and sleep with decent men,
And then go on to Balla just beyond
  and drink galore,
And next to Kiltimagh for a visit of
  about a month, and then
I would only be a couple of miles
  away from Ballymore.

I say and swear my heart lifts up like
  the lifting of a tide,
Rising up like the rising wind till fog
  or mist must go,
When I remember Carra and Gallen
  close beside,
And the Gap of the Two Bushes, and
  the wide plains of Mayo.

To Killaden then, to the place where
  everything grows that is best,
There are raspberries there and strawberries there
  and all that is good for men;
And if I were only there in the middle
  of my folk my heart could rest,
For age itself would leave me there
  and I'd be young again.

Authorship

Based on

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

3. Inis Fál [sung text not yet checked]

Now may we turn aside
 . . . . . . . . . .

— The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. —

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4. In the poppy field [sung text not yet checked]

Mad Patsy said, he said to me,
That every morning he could see
An angel walking on the sky;
Across the sunny skies of morn
He threw great handfuls far and nigh
Of poppy seed among the corn;
And then, he said, the angels run
To see the poppies in the sun.

A poppy is a devil weed,
I said to him - he disagreed;
He said the devil had no hand
In spreading flowers tall and fair
Through corn and rye and meadow land,
by garth and barrow everywhere:
The devil has not any flower,
But only money in his power.

And then he stretched out in the sun
And rolled upon his back for fun:
He kicked his legs and roared for joy
Because the sun was shining down:
He said he was a little boy
And would not work for any clown:
He ran and laughed behind a bee,
And danced for very ecstasy.

Authorship

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]