Another May Day arrives and the Farmer, he shudders, <br />In a deep moment of fear for everything he loves – <br />His cows and crops and his children, so very dear. <br />The old beech sways creakily in a passing wind <br />Cutting his fear wide apart with a frosty slash <br />Of panic, striking the poor old Farmers heart, <br />Sending his poor soul searching for itself. <br /> <br />The Farmer dashes in a sweat from house to parlour. <br />Checking on the butter – still yellow, still hard. <br />Checking on the milk – still cold and snowy, <br />Not sour. His Wife paces the little kitchen <br />Anxious in her flowery apron, one eye <br />On her dreadful Husband, another on <br />The lane, the children are due home. <br /> <br />In the afternoon the Farmer plants a single May Tree <br />(The annual custom) behind the farmyard square. <br />Each family member gathers tightly around <br />And Father leads on with a faithful prayer <br />To protect the land from the demons and <br />The fairies, the little people swapping <br />Places with the young children. <br /> <br />Protection is sought from all these demonic events <br />As May Day pays her visit countrywide. Finally <br />When it’s all done, the farmer, he can rest, <br />Peacefully, by the blazing turf fire. His <br />Eyelids close and he prays for the best – <br />An autumn and many bags full of grain; <br />A May with no fairies; a little rain.<br /><br />Seán O Muiríosa<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/may-day-in-old-farming-ireland/
