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SONG OF THE PRATEE, by             Poem Explanation         Poet's Biography
First Line: When after the winter alarmin'


When, after the Winter alarmin ',
The Spring steps in so charmin',
So fresh and arch
In the middle of March,
Wid her hand St. Patrick's arm on;
Let us all, let us all be goin',
Agra, to assist at your sowin',
The girls to spread
Your iligant bed,
And the boys to set the hoe in.


Then good speed to your seed! God's grace and increase.
Never more in our need may you blacken wid the blight;
But when Summer is o'er, in our gardens, astore,
May the fruit at your root fill our bosoms wid delight.


So rest and sleep, my jewel,
Safe from the tempest cruel;
Till violets spring
And skylarks sing
From Mourne to Carran Tual.


Then wake and build your bower
Through April sun and shower,
To bless the earth
That gave you birth,
Through many a sultry hour.
Then good luck to your leaf. And ochone, ologone,
Never more to our grief may it blacken wid the blight,
But when Summer is o'er, in our gardens, astore,
May the fruit at your root fill our bosoms wid delight.


Thus smile with glad increasin',
Till to St. John we're raisin'
Through Erin's isle
The pleasant pile
That sets the bonfire blazin'.
O 'tis then that the Midsummer fairy,
Abroad on his sly vagary,
Wid purple and white,
As he passes by night,
Your emerald leaf shall vary.


Then more power to your flower, and your merry green leaf!
Never more to our grief may they blacken wid the blight;
But when Summer is o'er, in our gardens, astore,
May the fruit at your root fill our bosoms wid delight.


And once again, Mavourneen,
Some mellow Autumn mornin',
At red sunrise
Both girls and boys
To your garden ridge we're turnin',
Then under your foliage fadin'
Each man of us sets his spade in,
While the colleen bawn
Her brown kishane
Full up wid your fruit is ladin'.


Then good luck to your leaf! More power to your flower!
Never more to our grief may they blacken wid the blight;
But when Summer is o'er, in our gardens, astore,
May the fruit at your root fill our bosoms wid delight.






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