WHEN IT'S PRIMROSE TIME IN CAVAN
Mel Doherty

It was primrose time in Cavan. I thought I was in heaven
As I heard the cuckoo calling and the skylark sing his lay.
I spied a little mother as primroses she was gathering
To beautify her altar for the station the next day.

Says I, "God save you kindly." Says she, "God save you, stranger.
Come in and have a cup of tea and make yourself at home.
I have been cleaning and a-scrubbing, white-washing and rubbing,
For it's primrose time in Cavan and the childer comin' home."

As I walked into that kitchen, oh, wasn't it bewitchin',
As I saw the big turf fire and heard the kettle sing.
Said she, "Oh, what would you be takin'? Some duck eggs and bacon?
They were only laid this morning and fit for any king."

Says I, "I don't feel hungry." Says she, "I don't believe you.
Sure you must have walked from Kingscourt or maybe from Stradone.
Would you like a goat's-milk pancake or a piece of two of boxty?
You know the childer loved it when they were all at home."

She says, "You're a stranger and your clothes they look like a Yankee's."
Says I, "You've guessed it rightly. I am from the good old USA."
Then her angel face did brighten and her handshake it did tighten.
"Sure it must have been God sent you around this road today.

"In America I've seven. I have two more up in heaven.
Last June their father joined them and left me all alone.
But I'm not a-crying or from God's face a-flying,
For its primrose time in Cavan and the childer's coming home.

"There's the cradle where we rocked them. There's the hearth stone they played on.
There's the little altar where I taught them how to pray.
There's the schoolbooks and the fiddle and the books with all the riddles.
Sure it keeps you from being lonesome while the childer are away."

Says she, "A stór, you're crying," and I was not denying.
I never shall forget her until my dying day;
But tonight I'll pray, "God bless her; may angels' lips caress her,
For it's primrose time in Cavan three thousand miles away."

There you go!