Patrick Kavanagh

The Rustic

Simple love warm and kind
In the country I'll find
A daughter of Nature young and sweet
Who has never learned city deceit.
A child of the unsullied muse
Who has never stood in cinema queues.
Who has never read the books that make
Women motherhood forsake.

I see her already so bashful, so
Awkward-tongued she cannot say
The pretty lyrical bunk or blow
Bubbles of laughter. Her name is May.
Her mother's an easy-going woman
Very human
And her father's a spade-man in the bog
Earning half a crown a day

Simple and innocent love, by Johnie
What good is dirty money
Scattered over the floor of Hate
Like the pieces of a rage-smashed plate.
Heaven on Earth - 
The girth
Of a woman's waist.
And not for me
The ecstasy
Where the steeds of Macroom have raced.

§ Last 3 lines in another hand?
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