THE PARISH PIPER by JOSEPH FRANCIS CARLIN MACDONNELL

'Tis what I said in Clogher,
And Spring upon the year,
I'll rise me on the morrow's morn
And win away from here;
Since I'm the parish piper
Whose breezy heart has blown
So many partners into mates,
And I without my own.

When larks arose in Clogher
I took me at my word
To find my nough o' partners, yet
To lose the one preferred,
The while I coursed the county
And stepped to weary drone
Of many a piper's gathered tunes,
And I without my own.

Then back come I to Clogher
To play with finer art,
While memory clasped the dream of her
That danced within my heart,
But since the folk I coupled
Have gone beneath Tyrone,
I pipe their tripping childer now,
And I without my own.

'Tis what I think in Clogher,
And harvest on the year,
I'll soon be off to neighbour her
Who left me lornsome here.
And There I'll be the piper,
If still I must be lone;
Else she and I'll be partners There
And each the other's own.

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