BSW3 19. The path across the moor
Nov 04, 2021, 07:01 PM
Speaker: Seumus Gildea
From the Bluestack Way Part 3 playlist.
The Path Across the Moor
Words: Seumas MacManus; Tune: Traditional, set by Eamonn Monaghan
One harvest evening as I took the road from Glenties fair, I overtook a fresh littl’ coleen of modest mean and air;
So pleasant our discoursing was, it grieved me to be sure,
When she said at length “Good-bye, kind sir, my path’s across the moor.”
I looked upon her wistfully, her gaze fell on the grass,
“It’s lonesome walking in the moor,” I said, “mo chailín deas; And the path is not so narrow, there’s room for two, I’m sure;
If you don’t object I’ll take with you the path across the moor.”
“The moon is up and the path is straight,” she answered courteously, “And I never do feel lonesome when crossing of Tyree;
A kind good-bye, pray gentle sir, my father he is poor, And I a humble maid have never been beyond the moor.”
“You do your father wrong,” I said, “for his is wealth untold, And the King of Royal Spain is not so rich for all his gold; And wealth and worldly riches for me have little lure;
I barter both to walk and sport with you across the moor.”
I looked into her gentle eyes; she blushed and cast them down. I touched my lips upon her hand, still Rosie did not frown.
I took her hands in both of mine and prisoned them secure,
While she murmured “You may join me on the path across the moor.”
Our audio piece has the local raconteur, Seumas Gildea, telling us what he thinks of Irish poets from MacGill to Heaney with his trademark candour.
From the Bluestack Way Part 3 playlist.
The Path Across the Moor
Words: Seumas MacManus; Tune: Traditional, set by Eamonn Monaghan
One harvest evening as I took the road from Glenties fair, I overtook a fresh littl’ coleen of modest mean and air;
So pleasant our discoursing was, it grieved me to be sure,
When she said at length “Good-bye, kind sir, my path’s across the moor.”
I looked upon her wistfully, her gaze fell on the grass,
“It’s lonesome walking in the moor,” I said, “mo chailín deas; And the path is not so narrow, there’s room for two, I’m sure;
If you don’t object I’ll take with you the path across the moor.”
“The moon is up and the path is straight,” she answered courteously, “And I never do feel lonesome when crossing of Tyree;
A kind good-bye, pray gentle sir, my father he is poor, And I a humble maid have never been beyond the moor.”
“You do your father wrong,” I said, “for his is wealth untold, And the King of Royal Spain is not so rich for all his gold; And wealth and worldly riches for me have little lure;
I barter both to walk and sport with you across the moor.”
I looked into her gentle eyes; she blushed and cast them down. I touched my lips upon her hand, still Rosie did not frown.
I took her hands in both of mine and prisoned them secure,
While she murmured “You may join me on the path across the moor.”
Our audio piece has the local raconteur, Seumas Gildea, telling us what he thinks of Irish poets from MacGill to Heaney with his trademark candour.