Hi,


THE EMIGRANT'S LETTER
Percy French

Dear Danny, I'm taking the pen in my hand,
To tell you we're just out of sight of the land,
In the grand Allen liner I'm sailing in style,
But I'm sailing away from the Emerald Isle.
And a long sort of sigh seemed to come from us all
When the waves hit the last bit of auld Donegal,
Ah, it's well to be you that is taking your tay (tea),
Where' they're cutting the corn in Creeslough (Creesh-la) today.

There's a woman on board who knows Katie by sight,
And we talked of auld times 'til they put out the light.
I'm to meet the good woman tomorrow on deck,
And we'll talk about Katie from here to Quebec,
I know I'm no match for her, no not the least
With her house and two cows, and her brother a priest.
But the woman declares Katie's heart's on the say (sea),
While mine's with the reaper's in Creeslough today.

Ah, goodbye to you Danny, no more's to be said,
And I think the salt water's got into my head,
For it drips from my eyes when I call to my mind
The friends and the colleagues I'm leaving behind.
But still she might wait. When I bade her goodbye
There was just the least trace of a tear in her eye,
And a brake in her voice when she said, "You might stay,
But, please God you'll return to auld Creeslough, some day."


Slainte
alison