In Wellies

Oh to be in Magherabeg

Where I was adult free

From sun up til head down,

Stomping through streams in worn out wellies,

Chasing rams down to the Swilly.

They called me in only to eat

Rock buns for tea

And say the rosary--

       Oh clement , oh loving, oh sweet Virgin Mary.

I never knew then what what stranger danger was--

Warned only to "mind that road"

Which had killed two of my grandmother's dogs.

At the close of summer

I hid beneath beds

So I wouldn't have to leave

Knowing it wasn't the hills I would miss

But being a girl unbridled.