Come Down from the Moor

As I walked out one May morning
All still under monochrome sky
Sleep lay heavy on rounded shoulders
Head lowered, I made my way
Up along the old bog road
Past O’Donnell’s, across the ditch
Turned my gaze towards Ox Mountains
To where Anne used to sing
Come down from the moor
Your children’s children leaving
Gone to find a job
Ten thousand miles away
Early spring, turf cutting time
Backs bent double against the line
Neatly stacked, quickly sacked
Move along and put away
Anne’s song pure as mountain air
Could be heard singing «The Silvery Tide»
Shafts of sun on a foggy day
Hand-me-down of hope denied
Come down from the moor
Your children’s children leaving
Gone to find a job
Ten thousand miles away
Ten thousand miles away
As cool respite to jaunty jigs
Gathered amidst familial craic
Of uncles and cousins and daddy’s voice
Mellifluous in recitation
Passed down through the generations
Shared heartbeat of this congregation
Now pulsing for a better seam
Far beyond the silvery tide