Swarthy little Leaspagan,

Calve will the lowing cow:

Lowing ’tis of Mull cow,

My life and my gladness.

Thou art not the seed of Conn;

Thou art seed of better born


Seed of Leod of warships and mailcoats from

Such thy kindred.

Feeri-farri ! no calf thou

Of the old withered cow;

Feeri-farri! no kid, I wot,

Of yearling goat.

Feeri-farri! such thou art not,

Feeri-farri ! thou’rt my own calf.

Hush! hush! little man.

Sure thou hast no woes.

No hole in thy shoe;

Why pinched then that nose,

Grey as cloud in the blue?

Hero wert thou that hour,

Struck with wand of power.

When the snow was on the tree.

When thy nurse couldn’t see,

And the holly had never a flower.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s