Me Wee Little Feather

By: Fee

Come I’ll tell ye a tale of a wee lassie who lived on a hill

A sweet darlin’ young maiden I often think of her still

‘Twas in the glen we’d lay on a mattress of sweet purple heather

And ‘twas there I’d tickle her fancy with me little wee feather

This beauty hailed from Kildare and her name was Kathleen

Such a spirited pretty young red head like I’d never seen

I made Kathleen a promise that we’d spend life together

So she’d let me tickle her fancy with me little wee feather

One night my Kathleen asked me will you love me for life

Nay, my ship sails in the morning and I’m too young for a wife

My ship will carry me to places far, far away from this heather

She cried but she let me tickle her fancy with me little wee feather

So I kissed my wee Kathleen goodbye with tears in her eyes

All the time knowing full well that I was telling her lies

For you see I had a wife at home that was tough as boot leather

Who would kill be stone dead for using on another me little wee feather

Well I swung by the ale house for a wee dram of courage

Now tired and sated and my mind sluggish as porridge

Walked in me door to Kathleen and my wife waiting together

No mercy was shown me, they broke me little wee feather

So now there is a lesson to be learned from this tale of woe

Young fellows always remember that wherever you go

If you fancy a lassie to lay down in the sweet purple heather

If you’ve a wife don’t try to tickle another with your little wee feather…