May 28

I remember the days of old; I meditate on all Thy work; I muse on the work of Thy hands.

Y F. see me now an ould man, his work near done, Sure the hair upon me head's gone white;

But the things meself consated 'or the time that I could run,

They're the nearest to me heart this night.

Just the daisies down in the low grass,

The stars high up in the skies,

The first I knowed of a mother's face

Wi' the kind love in her eyes,

Och, och!

The kind love in her eyes.

MOIRA

O'NEILL,

Songs

of the

Glens of

Antrim

OLD AGE