In The Farmer's House <br />I'M glad to lie on a sack of leaves <br />By a wasted fire and take my ease. <br />For the wind would strip me bare as a tree <br />The wind would blow oul’ age upon me, <br />And I'm dazed with the wind, the rain, and the cold! <br />If I had only the good red gold <br />To buy me the comfort of a roof, <br />And under the thatch the brown of the smoke! <br />I'd he up in my painted room <br />Until my hired girl would come; <br />And when the sun had warmed my walls <br />I'd rise up in my silks and shawls, <br />And break my fast beside the fire. <br />And Fd watch them that had to sweat <br />And shiver for shelter and what they ate <br />The farmer digging in the fields, <br />The beggars going from gate to gate, <br />The horses striving with their loads, <br />And all the sights upon the roads. <br /> <br />I'd live my lone without clan nor care, <br />And none around me to crave a share: <br />The young have mocking, impudent ways, <br />And I'd never let them a-nigh my place, <br />And a child has often a pitiful face. <br />I'd give the rambling fiddler rest, <br />And for me he would play his best, <br />And he'd have something to tell of me <br />From the Moat of Granard down to the sea! <br />And, though I'd keep distant, I'd let in <br /> <br />Oul' women who would card and spin, <br />And clash with me, and I'd hear it said, <br />'Mor, who used to carry her head <br />As if she was a lady bred, <br />Has little enough in her house, they say; <br />And such a one's child I saw on the way <br />Scaring crows from a crop, and glad to get <br />In a warmer house, the bit to eat <br />Oh, none are safe and none secure, <br />And it's well for some whose bit is sure!' <br /> <br />I'd never grudge them the weight of their lands <br />If I had only the good red gold <br />To huggle between my breast and my hands!<br /><br />Padraic Colum<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-the-shutter-said-as-she-lay-by-the-fire/
