AN GAODHAL.
315
'S mar seo tá Sacsanaigh 'nois le Éire
Ag sgaradh bréige air
Chlann na nGaodhal ins gach uile chás.
Ach tá'n tíoránach go buan 'na chladhaire
'Na scáile féin 's leur dó 'n marbhtheóir
Gach ceárda d'a siúbhlann sé air aghaidh
Chidheann sluaighte le dinamite 'r a thóir
Is díreach an bóthar nach
Bh-fuil ann cor no casadh,
Is ní'l lá d'a fhad nach
D-tigeann a dheireadh.
Má thigheann an t-imreas arís,
Éireochaidh fir na meisnigh
Fhágfas comhlacht Shacsanaigh
Brúithte briste
Tá sé soiléire mínighthe dhúinn
Anns an m-Bíobla
Go rabh ins an árd h oir fadó
Fear ró naomhtha do thug go toil mhuil
É fhéin mar iodhbairt
Chum na Philistéinidhe go deo
As a thír do dhíbirt, —
Gan arm ionna láimh
'S gan súil ionna cheann,
Shiúbhal sé leis na ceanfuirtighibh
Go Teampoll Deagon,
Chuir sé a ghualain leis an b-pileur
Go cruaidh & go teann,
'Gus leig sé 'nuas an teampoll
Air fhéin & a rabh ann.
Dá m-beidheadh meisneach aig fir
Anois mar bhí aig Samson,
Tá arm millteach acu
Nach rabh ainm air san n-am-san,
Arm do reubhfadh páláis, luingeise
Agus dúnta daingeana,
'S ní bheidheadh iomdha Gaodhal andiu
Gan choir ag iomchar
Slabhraidhe iarruinn i ngabhannaibh
Ach tá fir chneasta réidh i Sacsanaigh
Le éiric do dheunadh agus aithrighe,
Ach tá fir eile ann a deir,
"Eugamuid mar mhaireamuid."
Éist! a d-tuigeann sibh an fhuaim
Do thigeas as uaill na d-Tóruigh? —
Is fada tá Éire a fulaing, foigh'deach,
I guidhe, trosgadh & deunadh aithrighe,
Co fhaid a's tá Sacsanaigh a slad,
Sgriosadh, marbhugh' 's deunadh peacaighe.
Ach tiocfaidh athrughadh obann, borb
A chruaidheochas croidhthe na n-daoineadh
Fhágfas Londain claoidhte, uaigneach fós
Mar dubhairt ann Tighearna Mc Amhlaidh
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.
