God's Tears in Irish


Although lies have long legs
The truth gets there in the end;

From John O' Groats
To Land's End
To St. Michael's Mount
To Finistère

The Selfish Giant
Becomes a good friend.

The Cornish ogre says,
You are welcome to visit again,
For another seven years.

Although misers have
Short arms and long pockets
And the fool's gold is never shared,

Our breadcrumbs
Are from His own bakery, little swallow

And the pink and red fuchsias
That you so admire so much, I know,
They are called Deora Dé,

God's Tears in Irish.