WHAT was it made me drop the spade and lift me head to look again? Was it blowing of the West wind or a bird-song true? (Oh Red-breast, how you sang it till the bough beneath you shook again.) "Ah, Spring's come back to Kerry, lad, and all the world's made new." @3Then it's "Hi Terry, Ho Terry, here's the open road for you. Leave the old men have the roof and hug the chimney seat." Then it's "Hi Terry, Ho Terry, here's a tinker's load for you -- A ragged coat, a merry heart, and dancing in your feet."@1 Sure, all the little willow trees have on their veils o' green again, All the little, clacking brooks are urging as they run. They're calling me, they're coaxing me, "O, follow now we're seen again, And Spring's come back to Kerry with the West wind and the Sun." @3Then it's, "Hi Terry, Ho Terry, here's a tinker's meal for you -- The sound of singing fiddles at the cross roads the day, The lightest feet the parish round tripping through the reel for you; Ah, clap a primrose in your cap and throw the spade away."@1 |