A cottage and a dog
all I really want is a cottage and a dog
somewhere west of Shannon
but nowhere near a bog.
I want that big Atlantic to blow away the dust,
that has set itself about me
and is turning now to rust.
I want a dark haired beauty from Bandon Town or Cork,
to serve me up my porter
and then listen while I talk.
I’ll venture out one starry night
and step willingly to sea,
to slip this life without a fight
that’ll be the end of me.
Just a little ditty to sing to the faeries at the bottom of the garden, nothing to take too seriously folks.