And the people widin at their suppers ne'er thinkin' no great while ago It was dazzlin' Jack's eyes as he looked for me face wid the last of his sight. And sez I to him, "What is it, lad?" but I knew I might listen all night And no answer; the sorra a chance to be bringin' thim a word we'd ha' found, On'y Jack had more sinse in him yet than meself that was hearty and sound; For he looked towards the rim of the west wid the sun hangin' ready to fall, And he whistled two notes quick and lowwell I knew it: the curlew's call. I'd not aisy mistake it; sure out on these bogs scarce a minit goes by, But anear or afar on the win' comes a flicker of the crathur's cry Faith I heard wan just thin- and on many a day, ere the sun 'ud be up, And around and around stood the gray of the air like a big empty cup Fit to hold every sound ever stirred, and to catch all the light ever shone, I'd be out wid me on to our bogland, all desolit lyin', and lone As they say whin you 've watched the low shore till it dips where the ridges rowl green, And I'd spy was there e'er a wan out, and belike not a sowl to be seen Save Jack whistlin' away to me down be the lough; you'd ha' swore 't was the bird, Barrin' just the laste differ; Jack done it the likest that ever I heard. And there's plenty that thry at it. Seldom a sunsit throops out of the west some lad 'll be whistlin' his sweetheart, that's sittin' and listenin' her best, But While the corners grow dark, and she's reckonin' the shadows for 'fraid he might fail. So his call lit the world like a star. Ne'er a sweetheart had Jack, I'll go bail, For the truth is his mind was tuk up wid his own folk; it could n't be tould And 't would dance on their bits of gilt The opinion he had and consait of the jugs, till they glittered like stars in a row, whole of thim, young wans and ould, And it's there where I'm bothered entirely to think how he got the idee To go soldierin' off to the ends of the earth wid no comrade but me. Howanever, he went off suddint, afore we knew right what was on; And I thought to meself the ould place Were come nearer than near, and gone further than far, along wid that curlew's call. Ah, but Norah, you 're perished an' thrimblin' wid could sittin' here in the win'; 'ud be quare wid Jack Connolly Did you bring ne'er a wrap to rowl round you, machree, now the night 's closin’ in ? gone, So I up and I down to the barracks below, an' the shillin' I tuk That's the way it fell out, and belike 't was himself had the best of the luck. And continted and aisy he went, wanst he And I'll bid thim be thinkin' of you, Ne'er a wan you 're forgettin'," sez I; and For the manin' he meant wid his call was Come a bullet dhruv deep in the sand- And a priest legged it up to the top of the For there's mists curlin' white on the pools, and the air gets an edge whin they lift. Ay, the moon's up, just on'y a breath 'gin Sthreelin' by like a haystack on fire, wid wan 'ud harvest the light of the day. 'Tis n't that fashion dark falls, out there in the aist. Wanst the sun goes on lave, Ne'er a thrace of a glame bides to show where he passed, like the foam of a wave; He'll be blazin' wan minit, and thin 't is the A black door on the blink of a hearth, or And the moon riz ice-clear, wid a shine You could gather up. And, troth, if our tongues had froze stiff, 't is as much we'd ha' said, Sure Wid Jack Connolly's baste saddle-empty, And the crathur went slow-fut and heavy; |