RAIN SONG

Oh, it‘ s gray rain in the valleys,

White rain where the moorland lies,

And in from the bleak sea-borders

A gust that keens and cries.

Sheep huddle in the hollows,

And the cattle seek the byre,

But I must be up and faring

Away from the warm peat fire;

I must be up and faring,

For this is the hour of tryst,

And Sheilah will be waiting

At the glen amid the mist.

Oh, what‘ s gray rain to lovers,

And what though white rains fall,

When blue skies shine in Sheilah's eyes

For a lad of Donegal!