The long, long home-sickness!
’Tis slow, slow death for me who long for home, for home!
And a heart is breaking,
I know a heart that’s breaking,
All to be at home at last, to be at home, at home,
O Silis, Silis,
Home, Home, Home!
Sheumas’ face was white and tired. It is weary work with the herring, no doubt.
He lifted a white stone and rapped loudly on the door. Isla came out, and looked at him. The singer smiled, though that smiling had no light in it. It was dark as a dark wave it was.