O stony grey soil of Monaghan The laugh from my love you thieved; You took the gay child of my passion And gave me your clod-conceived. You clogged the feet of my boyhood And I believed that my stumble Had the poise and stride of Apollo And his voice my thick tongued mumble. You told me the plough was immortal! O green-life conquering plough! The mandril stained, your coulter blunted In the smooth lea-field of my brow. You sang on steaming dunghills A song of cowards` brood, You perfumed my clothes with weasel itch, You fed me on swinish food You flung a ditch on my vision Of beauty, love and truth. O stony grey soil of Monaghan You burgled my bank of youth! Lost the long hours of pleasure All the women that love young men. O can I still stroke the monster`s back Or write with unpoisoned pen. His name in these lonely verses Or mention the dark fields where The first gay flight of my lyric Got caught in a peasant`s prayer. Mullahinsa, Drummeril, Black Shanco- Wherever I turn I see In the stony grey soil of Monaghan Dead loves that were born for me.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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