A flock of wee ducks strolled outside.
The hen that hatched them followed, and tried
To keep them safe and be their guide,
As the wee ducks waddled on.

They came to the brink of an old horse pool;
Where quacked a drake that spurned hen rule –
“I am your daddy – that hen’s a fool:
Come on, Web-toes! Come on.”

The poor hen wept till her eyes grew dim.
The wee ducks all enjoyed their swim
With daddy drake. They stayed with him
And bade the hen begone.

Poor old hen! Let me weep with you:
For my wee ducks – they left me too;
When they grew up away they flew,
And left me all alone.

–

MICHAEL MULLIN

‘THE BARD OF FOREMASS’
FOREMASS LOWER, SIXMILECROSS, CO. TYRONE