There is no joy to man or boy
Than a tale to tell
Of man or beast or sort or feast
And to do so well
To have peolple gape as they escape
From the world that does exist
Into as the verbal scribe what you describe
To the passing time they have not missed
In Ireland here the tradition dear
We hold of story telling
Ghosts and ghouls and troubles "sowles"
Instill hearts with a fear swelling...
And childrens eyes do not disguise
Their holding of the story teller in awe
As tales of battles and taking of cattle
Show the emotions motion wild and raw...
If nothing else you with your life to do
Let you a story tell
And when it appears you have your listners ears...
Indulge in the joy of doing it well!!!
|