THE CONVICT OF CLONMEL,

New Zealand Tablet, 18 November 1920, Page 7

THE CONVICT OF CLONMEL,

(From the Irish). How hard is my fortune. And vain my repining! The strong rope of fate For this young neck is twining. My strength is departed, My cheek sunk and sallow, While I languish in chains In the gaol of Clonmala.* No boy in the village Was ever yet milder. I’d play with a child, And my sport would bo wilder; . I’d dance without tiring ■ _ - From morn till even, And the . goal-ball I’d strike •> To the lightning of heaven. • At my bed-foot decaying, My hurlbat is lying; Thro’ the boys of the village i. .•s*'--My goal-ball is flying; My horse ’mong the neighbors . Neglected may fallow, While I pine in my chains In the gaol of Clonmala. Next Sunday the patron At - home will be keeping, ' And the young active hurlers The • field will be sweeping; With the dance of fair maidens The evening they’ll hallow, While this heart, once so gay, Shall be cold in Clonmala. Jeremiah Joseph Callanan. *Cluain meala (“Field of honey”); Irish of Clonmel.