And if you ’re a young man, and sound to the core,
And a sweet maid is waiting you home at the door,
Beware how you creep up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar!
[p 33]
]RAIN SONG
Oh, it ’s gray rain in the valleys,
White rain where the moorland lies,
And in from the bleak sea-borders
A gust that keens and cries.
Sheep huddle in the hollows,
And the cattle seek the byre,