Oh Maggie O’Connell you’re a sight to behold,

With your sparkling blue eyes, and your long hair of gold,

Each sway of your hips is a blessing to see,

But I thank the good lord you’re not married to me,

Though I know the young fellow that bought you you’re ring,

He works till his poor hands are blistered and sting,

From daybreak to nightfall, he works in the mine,

While Maggie O’Connell, you have a fine time,

Don’t try to deny it, for I’ve seen you at night,

With your blouse barely fastened and your trousers skin tight,

Or that tiny wee skirt that fits more like a belt,

Oh Maggie O’Connell just look at yourself,

You’re a fine looking woman, but it’s the talk of the town,

The way you cheat on your husband, while he’s underground,

Working the coalface all hours that God sends,

Earning the money that you love to spend,

With his lungs full of coal dust, he splutters and coughs,

Works till you’d think the mans arms will fall off,

But he won’t take a breather no he won’t take a break,

He’d work to the grave, for his sweet Maggie’s sake,

Because he believes that you love him, the way he loves you,

And I haven’t the heart girl, to tell him the truth,

Though I’ve tried to so often, the words will not come,

For I’ve no great desire, to break the heart of my son.

By S.E.Ralph

9-11-2006