GOOD Father John O'Hart <br />In penal days rode out <br />To a Shoneen who had free lands <br />And his own snipe and trout. <br />In trust took he John's lands; <br />Sleiveens were all his race; <br />And he gave them as dowers to his daughters. <br />And they married beyond their place. <br />But Father John went up, <br />And Father John went down; <br />And he wore small holes in his Shoes, <br />And he wore large holes in his gown. <br />All loved him, only the shoneen, <br />Whom the devils have by the hair, <br />From the wives, and the cats, and the children, <br />To the birds in the white of the air. <br />The birds, for he opened their cages <br />As he went up and down; <br />And he said with a smile, 'Have peace now'; <br />And he went his way with a frown. <br />But if when anyone died <br />Came keeners hoarser than rooks, <br />He bade them give over their keening; <br />For he was a man of books. <br />And these were the works of John, <br />When, weeping score by score, <br />People came into Colooney; <br />For he'd died at ninety-four. <br />There was no human keening; <br />The birds from Knocknarea <br />And the world round Knocknashee <br />Came keening in that day. <br />The young birds and old birds <br />Came flying, heavy and sad; <br />Keening in from Tiraragh, <br />Keening from Ballinafad; <br />Keening from Inishmurray. <br />Nor stayed for bite or sup; <br />This way were all reproved <br />Who dig old customs up.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ballad-of-father-o-hart/
