Explore "Songs of The Glens of Antrim" by Moira O´Neill on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sure he's five months old, an' he's two foot long, / Baby Johneen; / Watch yerself now, for he's terrible sthrong, / Baby Johneen. / An' his fists 'ill be up if ye make any slips, / He has finger-ends like the daisy-tips, / But he'll have ye attend to the words of his lips, / Will Johneen.
There' nobody can rightly tell the colour of his eyes, / This Johneen; / For they're partly o' the earth an' still they're partly o' the / skies, / Like Johneen. / So far as he's thravelled he's been laughin' all the way, / For the little soul is quare an' wise, the little heart is gay; / An' he likes the merry daffodils, he thinks they'd do to play / With Johneen.