He's gone to school wee Hughie and him not four,
Sure I saw the fright was on him
As he left the door.
He took a hand a Dinny, and a hand a Dan,
With Joe's auld coat upon him,
Ach, the poor wee man.

I watched him to the corner of the big turf stack,
And the more his feet went forrit,
still his head turned back.
He was looking would I call him,
Ouch my heart was sore,
Sure it's lost I am without him,
But he bet to go.

I watched him to the turning,
As he passed it by.
God help him he was crying,
And maybe so was I.



From Mary mc Gonagle Johnson
Manchester , and Donegal.