Tom Moon as he sat in our kitchen some days <br />Turned the talk into song and before very long <br />He’d start pacing the floor from table to door, <br />Look into the mirror used for Saturday shaving, <br />Tilt back his hat and in a voice that was deep, <br />Sing loud with a chorus a love song sonorous: <br />Alas at the end of the story of loving her dearly <br />They ‘parted forever on the banks of the Lee’ <br /> <br />Later on in his life he worked in the forestry <br />And he lived down at the foot of the mountain; <br />How happy he was one day when I called to him <br />And he got his young daughter to dance for us. <br /> <br />While we both drank from our bottles of stout <br />He sang from his heart of this beautiful lady <br />In the wonderful words of her lover lamenting: <br />Looking at her picture he’d hung on the wall <br />He gazed at her face and thought that if only <br />She was really alive and holding his hand <br />Like the time they were two lovers together. <br /> <br />Though dead and gone I think of his songs; <br />I hear his musical voice full of merriment, <br />And I often sing too as he himself used to do <br />For it makes our hearts beat that much better. <br />Join in yourself and you’ll feel the same joy <br />For Tom Moon in his day was a minstrel boy.<br /><br />Matt Mooney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tom-moon/
