Show an am irish fairy story good mother from your waya wayside ide lint wise wis with your ninety years tell mo me a fairy story but first wrin wring out all the tears for I 1 am ain hurt hunt beyond the skill W of leech hurt with a 1 knife that seems in booth sooth but slow to kill good mother hurt with life I 1 my lady eure yon but sad yet its a merry day im not too wrinkled to be glad and you are art not riot yet gray its long long yet I 1 hope to live ive for god is good goodim im told and 1 l nd lifes the best lie ile has lias to give im thankful to be old yee yes god is good im vin told you eee see I 1 cannot read but then I 1 can believe hes hos good to me ho lie Is and good to men they say he lle bends sends ua us sorrow too alin io wor world would 11 lintao sweet alil atil al 11 jav I 1 3 8 should nolue true the world the moth can eat lie ifie keeps my little cabin there safe when the sea wind blows when I 1 was avas young lie let me wear upon my rny cheek a lose iose and then it was ho lie sent beat a youth the handsomest own on all the irish coast in ili truth its much ive lived alone my lady since that long black night his ills fishing boat went down my boy that kept my heart eo so light had worked there in lie the town A lovely boy such gold like liko hair all curls her eyes grew dimi dim i christ keep him lie ile is quiet there with daisies over him lihn she hushed and turned to go inside an earthen floor ah me I 1 A heap of straw the door was wide wid e was all that I 1 could see yet on the little window low A bright geranium grew for my boy lie loved them so lie ile loved thee thrushes too good mother 11 sure but things go ill in our poor country yet ho ile gives mo me bread and shelter still its me hell not forget wo we parted for the tile light was low I 1 turned and looked around lord of us all can ease grow in such a plot or ground the tle manhattan for july |