Part 2 — "FORGETTIN"
Reading edition
The night when last I saw my lad His eyes were bright an' wet. He took my two hands in his own, "'Tis well," says he, "we're met. Asthore machree! the likes o' me I bid ye now forget."
Ah, sure the same's a thriflin' thing, 'Tis more I'd do for him! I mind the night I promised well, Away on Ballindim.— An' every little while or so I thry forgettin' Jim.
It shouldn't take that long to do, An' him not very tall: 'Tis quare the way I'll hear his voice, A boy that's out o' call,— An' whiles I'll see him stand as plain As e'er a six-fut wall.
Och, never fear, my jewel! I'd forget ye now this minute, If I only had a notion O' the way I should begin it; But first an' last it isn't known The heap o' throuble's in it.
Meself began the night ye went An' hasn't done it yet; I'm nearly fit to give it up, For where's the use to fret?— An' the memory's fairly spoilt on me Wid mindin' to forget.
Moira O'Neill [18