AN GAOḊAL.
315
'S mar seo tá Sacsanaiġ 'nois le Éire
Ag sgaraḋ bréige air
Ċlann na nGaoḋal ins gaċ uile ċás.
Aċ tá'n tíoránaċ go buan 'na ċlaḋaire
'Na scáile féin 's leur dó 'n marḃṫeóir
Gaċ ceárda d'a siúḃlann sé air aġaiḋ
Ċiḋeann sluaiġte le dinamite 'r a ṫóir
Is díreaċ an bóṫar naċ
Ḃ-fuil ann cor no casaḋ,
Is ní'l lá d'a ḟad naċ
D-tigeann a ḋeireaḋ.
Má ṫiġeann an t-imreas arís,
Éireoċaiḋ fir na meisniġ
Ḟágfas coṁlaċt Ṡacsanaiġ
Brúiṫte briste
Tá sé soiléire míniġṫe ḋúinn
Anns an m-Bíobla
Go raḃ ins an árd h oir fadó
Fear ró naoṁṫa do ṫug go toil ṁuil
É ḟéin mar ioḋbairt
Ċum na Ṗilistéiniḋe go deo
As a ṫír do ḋíbirt, —
Gan arm ionna láiṁ
'S gan súil ionna ċeann,
Ṡiúḃal sé leis na ceanfuirtiġiḃ
Go Teampoll Deagon,
Ċuir sé a ġualain leis an b-pileur
Go cruaiḋ & go teann,
'Gus leig sé 'nuas an teampoll
Air ḟéin & a raḃ ann.
Dá m-beiḋeaḋ meisneaċ aig fir
Anois mar ḃí aig Samson,
Tá arm millteaċ acu
Naċ raḃ ainm air san n-am-san,
Arm do reuḃfaḋ páláis, luingeise
Agus dúnta daingeana,
'S ní ḃeiḋeaḋ iomḋa Gaoḋal andiu
Gan ċoir ag iomċar
Slaḃraiḋe iarruinn i ngaḃannaiḃ
Aċ tá fir ċneasta réiḋ i Sacsanaiġ
Le éiric do ḋeunaḋ agus aiṫriġe,
Aċ tá fir eile ann a deir,
"Eugamuid mar ṁaireamuid."
Éist! a d-tuigeann siḃ an ḟuaim
Do ṫigeas as uaill na d-Tóruiġ? —
Is fada tá Éire a fulaing, foiġ'deaċ,
I guiḋe, trosgaḋ & deunaḋ aiṫriġe,
Co ḟaid a's tá Sacsanaiġ a slad,
Sgriosaḋ, marḃuġ' 's deunaḋ peacaiġe.
Aċ tiocfaiḋ aṫruġaḋ obann, borb
A ċruaiḋeoċas croiḋṫe na n-daoineaḋ
Ḟágfas Londain claoiḋte, uaigneaċ fós
Mar duḃairt ann Tiġearna Mc Aṁlaiḋ
GREENFIELD, N. Y.,
Sept. 12. '93.
Dear Friend, Editor of The Gael. —
Find in this private messenger one dollar, my
subscription to the Gael, also payment for extra co¬
pies sent.
The remarks of Mr. M P Ward in last Gael I
greatly appreciate, and his Eire Aluinn, Fial I am
very proud of. I hope he will live long and prosper
well to give the Gaelic cause a helping hand as he
has always done.
Now as my intended letter would be too long I
will boil it down to a few poetic lines —
P. A. DOUGHER
And his Missing Friends.
A letter of inquiry I am sending to the Gael,
That sprightly Irish journal most worthy of the
name,
That shining star of beauty that has graced Colum¬
bus shore,
And that sparkling stream of crystal where the
Celtic ardor flows.
This letter of inquiry — simple in its cause,
Does not touch upon the rights of man nor in¬
fringe upon the laws ;
It is the style prevailing, though, and fashion of my
kin,
To insert an advertisement for to find their miss¬
ing friends.
The friends that I am looking for you could find
them by the score,
They left the shores of Erin twenty years ago
And landed in America their fortunes for to seek, —
Has any body seen them since, or have they gone
to sleep?
Some went to the farms and others keeping store,
Some to Sloo cum Hollow*, adjacent to Dunmore
Some worked in the factories and in the rolling mill,
Has the Lacawanna drowned them, or are all the
mines caved in?
Some of the names I'Il mention were McAndrews
and McCoys,
O'Connors and McCauleys, Flemings and Bill-
boys,
McHales and McNamaras, whom I hope are living
still,
Were among my near relations who once flocked
round Nephin Hill.
I read the Irish journal these nine long years and
more,
Still watching through its columns for friends I
did adore,
Friends of learned honor who never would say fail,
And the only thing surprising me their names
don't grace the Gael.
I will cut my advertisement short for fear 'twould
be too long,
Or make a wrong impression, leading to a song ;
But all of you who notice this will kindly give heed,
And your correspondence now, dear friends, will
be thankfully received.
— P A DOUGHER.
Irish-American papers please copy.
* The ancient name of Scranton, Pa.
