O fair-haired Donough, O dear brother,
It is well I know who it was took you away from me;
Drinking from the cup, putting a light to the pipe,
And walking in the dew in the cover of the night.
O Michael Malley, O scourge of misfortune!
My brother was no calf of a vagabond cow;
But a well-shaped boy on a height or a hillside,
To knock a low pleasant sound out of a hurling-stick.
And fair-haired Donough, is not that the pity,
You that would carry well a spur or a boot;
I would put clothes in the fashion on you from cloth that would be
lasting;
I would send you out like a gentleman’s son.
O Michael Malley, may your sons never be in one another’s company;
May your daughters never ask a marriage portion of you;
The two ends of the table are empty, the house is filled,
And fair-haired Donough, my brother, is stretched out.
There is a marriage portion coming home for Donough,
But it is not cattle or sheep or horses;
But tobacco and pipes and white candles,
And it will not be begrudged to them that will use it.
[Raftery’s Praise of Mary Hynes]
Going to Mass by the will of God, the day came wet and the wind rose; I met Mary Hynes at the cross of Kiltartan, and I fell in love with her there and then.
I spoke to her kind and mannerly, as by report was her own way; and she said “Raftery my mind is easy; you may come to-day to Ballylee.”
When I heard her offer I did not linger; when her talk went to my heart my heart rose. We had only to go across the three fields; we had daylight with us to Ballylee.
The table was laid with glasses and a quart measure; she had fair hair and she sitting beside me; and she said, “Drink, Raftery, and a hundred welcomes; there is a strong cellar in Ballylee.”