THE OULD HOUND
When Shamus made shift wid a turf-hut
He'd naught but a hound to his name;
And whither he went thrailed the ould friend,
Dog-faithful and iver the same!
And he'd gnaw thro' a rope in the night-time,
He'd eat thro' a wall or a door,
He'd shwim thro' a lough in the winther,
To be wid his master wanst more!
And the two, faith, would share their last bannock;
They'd share their last collop and bone;
And deep in the starin' ould sad eyes
Lean Shamus would stare wid his own!
And loose hung the flanks av the ould hound
When Shamus lay sick on his bed—
Ay, waitin' and watchin' wid sad eyes
He'd eat not av bone or av bread!
But Shamus be springtime grew betther,
And a trouble came into his mind;
And he'd take himself off to the village,
And be leavin' his hound behind!
And deep was the whine of the ould dog
Wid a love that was deeper than life—
But be Michaelmas, faith, it was whispered
That Shamus was takin' a wife!
A wife and a fine house he got him;
In a shay he went drivin' around;
And I met him be chance at the cross-roads,
And I says to him, "How's the ould hound?"
"My wife never took to that ould dog,"
Says he, wid a shrug av his slats,
"So we've got us a new dog from Galway,
And och, he's the divil for rats!"
Arthur Stringer.