I MET A WALKING-MAN

I met a walking-man;

His head was old and grey.

I gave him what I had

To crutch him on his way.

The man was Mary's Son, I'll swear;

A glory trembled in his hair!

And since that blessed day

I've never known the pinch:

I plough a broad townland,

And dig a river-inch;

And on my hearth the fire is bright

For all that walk by day or night.