Oh he’d drop by of a Sunday noon
by the way for tea and a yarn
and we’d set out on a journey
the long way round the barn
For I knew he had a little gra
for one of the girls, or two
he didn’t mind one little bit
that I knew he knew I knew
He’d take his seat and produce the sweets
and the craic would start
and he’d play his part
and we’d take a cup of tea
and I was glad to sit right back
and be entertained with ease
by as sweet and fine a gentleman
as could ever shoot the breeze.
All of us grew more fond of him
as time swept gaily by
and liked to see, when the girls came in
that twinkle in his eye.
Ah, he has passed on by, now
on his considerate, careful way
and you’d miss his treats of a Sunday
and the surprising things he’d say
For there’s no harm done
to like someone
to feel that glow inside
like poverty or riches
love is difficult to hide.
beatriceanddante 