A picture of dark Irish beauty, <br />She rose stunningly out of the sea, <br />As she squeezed the Atlantic from her tresses <br />The warm mist and the wet then found me. <br /> <br />She towelled herself but lightly, <br />Then stripped 'neath her tentlike cover, <br />To emerge in a simple black dress <br />Which clung just as close as a lover. <br /> <br />She wandered by sand and by rocks, <br />Ancient history and youth now combining, <br />Till the sound of a flurry of fiddlers <br />Turned our minds to wining and dining. <br /> <br />I sat warm with my chilled Chardonnay, <br />When the Irish Times told me the news <br />That the Tiger had finally been caged, <br />Then she passed with her soup and no shoes. <br /> <br />She sipped from a spoon Oh! so gently, <br />As she flicked a wet tress of her hair, <br />Her eyes met mine very briefly <br />But to her I just never was there. <br /> <br />The fiddlers they came and they went, <br />A wasp died in my dry Chardonnay, <br />Then Maura danced steps of a reel, <br />Till from Biddy's we started to stray. <br /> <br />The girl sat alone with her soup, <br />As she sipped and she dipped in her bread, <br />I took a last glance back behind me <br />At the girl with wet hair and black dress.<br /><br />Joe Hughes visit joehughes.org.uk<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/glencolmcille-girl/
