Mother Ireland

Like Gaelic poets of ancient Ireland,
Who visioned Mother Ireland
As goddess strange or silken cow,
The old dame I, too, sighted.
When I saw her some distance off,
With respect I doffed my cap,
As drawing near, I heard her sing:
“Der deep a dimmy dap.”
Though she is rather old now
And toothless, as I gather,
She seemed happy with her kids,
As round her they all chattered.
She had doctors, lawyers, engineers,
And bankers on her lap,
As she hummed away so proudly:
“Der deep a dimmy dap.”
Yes, she can be proud now:
Her sons have done her credit;
No longer are they peasants -
Her family have made it.
I paused to view the happy scene,
And on a rock I sat.
The children tussled as children will:
“Der deep a dimmy dap.”
Then I drew close again.
Did I hear a note of pain, perhaps?
Or just age showing as she sings,
“Der deep a dimmy dap?”

Her children tussled on her knees;
Yes, viciously they scrapped,
And, now, I hear her words so clear:
“Their teeth are in my paps.”

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