Читать книгу A Book of Irish Verse - Various - Страница 18

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When Pat came over the hill,

His colleen fair to see,

His whistle low, but shrill,

The signal was to be;

(Pat whistles.)

'Mary,' the mother said,

'Some one is whistling sure;'

Says Mary, '’Tis only the wind

Is whistling through the door.'

(Pat whistles a bit of a popular air.)

'I've lived a long time, Mary,

In this wide world, my dear,

But a door to whistle like that I never yet did hear.'

'But, mother, you know the fiddle

Hangs close beside the chink,

And the wind upon the strings

Is playing the tune I think.'

(The pig grunts.)

'Mary, I hear the pig,

Unaisy in his mind.'

'But, mother, you know, they say

The pigs can see the wind.'

'That's true enough in the day, But I think you may remark, That pigs no more nor we Can see anything in the dark.'

(The dog barks.)

'The dog is barking now,

The fiddle can't play the tune.'

'But, mother, the dogs will bark

Whenever they see the moon.'

'But how could he see the moon,

When, you know, the dog is blind?

Blind dogs won't bark at the moon,

Nor fiddles be played by the wind.

'I'm not such a fool as you think,

I know very well it is Pat:—

Shut your mouth, you whistlin' thief,

And go along home out o' that!

'And you be off to your bed,

Don't play upon me your jeers;

For though I have lost my eyes,

I haven't lost my ears!'

Samuel Lover