"Are
ye right there, Michael?"
A Lay of the Wild West Clare
You may talk of Columbus's sailing
Across the Atlantic sea
But he never tried to go railing
From Ennis as far as Kilkee.
You run for the train starting at eight,
You're there when the clock gives the warnin'
And there for an hour you'll wait.
(Spoken):
And as you're waiting in the train,
You'll hear the guard sing this refrain
'Are ye right there, Michael? Are ye right?
Do you think that we'll be there before the night
Ye've been so long in startin',
That ye couldn't say for sartin' -
Still ye might now, Michael, so ye might!'
They find out where the engine's been hiding
And it drags you to sweet Corofin;
Says the guard. "Back her down on the siding,
There's the goods from Kilrush comin' in.'
Perhaps it comes in in two hours,
Perhaps it breaks down on the way;
"If it does," says the guard, 'be the powers,
We're here for the rest of the day!'
(Spoken):
And while you sit and curse your luck
The train backs down into a truck!
"Are ye right there, Michael, are ye right?
Have ye got the parcel there for Mrs. White
Ye haven't! Oh, begorra!
Say it's comin' down to-morra -
And it might now, Michael, so it might!'
At Lahinch the sea shines like a jewel,
With joy you are ready to shout,
When the stoker cries out, "There's no fuel,
And the fire's taytotally out.
But hand up that bit of a log there -
I'll soon have ye out of the fix;
There's a fine clamp of turf in the bog there;
And the rest go a-gatherin' sticks.
(Spoken):
And while you're breakin' bits of trees
You hear some wise remarks like these
"Are ye right there, Michael? Are ye right?
Do ye think that ye can get the fire to light?
"Oh, an hour you'll require,
For the turf it might be drier -"
'Well, it might now, Michael, so it might!
Kilkee! Oh, you never get near it!
You're in luck if the train brings you back
For the permanent way is so queer, it
spends most of its time off the track.
Uphill the ould engin' is climbin',
While the passengers push with a will;
You're in luck when you reach Ennistymon
For all the way home is down-hill.
(Spoken):
And as you're wobbling through the dark,
You hear the guard make this remark:-
"Are ye right there, Michael? Are ye right?
Do you think that ye'll be home before it's light'
"'Tis all dependin' whether
The ould engin'' howlds together -"
"And it might now, Michael, so it might!' |