Poems (Forrest)/St. Patrick blessed her eyes

ST. PATRICK BLESSED HER EYES

Och, she was born St. Patrick's morn
'Tis then the fairies dance,
The Phooka lumbered past her door
With malice in his glance,
He said "This rose shall bear a thorn."
The shamrock plant that lies
Beside the doorstep whispered low
"St. Patrick bless her eyes!"

When she was born the Leprachaun
Looked slyly thro' the pane,
He chirped "She shall be white as snow
And cold as silver rain."
But och, the little valley wren
The hawthorn bush made wise,
Sang all night by the cabin thatch
"St. Patrick bless her eyes!"

When she was born the Corrigaun
Came out along the hill,
And poured for her the beauty drop
From her cup's crystal fill;
And lest she should be hard and vain
The beauty that denies,
The speckled trout wrote down the stream,
"St. Patrick bless her eyes!"

I trembled sore, forninst her door
For she's a woman now,
I looked at her white prideful chin,
And at her queenly brow,
But, sure, for all the haughty
(The thorn that rose belies!)
I caught her in my arms and found
St. Patrick blessed her eyes!