The Green o’ the Spring
Sure, afther all the winther,
An’ afther all the snow,
’Tis fine to see the sunshine,
’Tis fine to feel its glow;
’Tis fine to see the buds break
On boughs that bare have been—
But best of all to Irish eyes
’Tis grand to see the green!
Sure, afther all the winther,
An’ afther all the snow,
’Tis fine to hear the brooks sing
As on their way they go;
’Tis fine to hear at mornin’
The voice of robineen,
But best of all to Irish eyes
’Tis grand to see the green!
Sure, here in grim New England
The spring is always slow,
An’ every bit o’ green grass
Is kilt wid frost and snow;
Ah, many a heart is weary
The winther days, I ween
But oh, the joy when springtime comes
An’ brings the blessed green!
Denis A. McCarthy