I dreamt last night of you, John-John, And thought you called to me;And when I woke this morning, John, Yourself I hoped to see;But I was all alone, John-John, Though still I heard your call:I put my boots and bonnet on, And took my Sunday shawl,And went, full sure to find you, John, To Nenagh fair.
The fair was just the same as then, Five years ago to-day,When first you left the thimble men And came with me away;For there again were thimble men And shooting galleries,And card-trick men and Maggie men Of all sorts and degrees, --But not a sight of you, John-John, Was anywhere.
I turned my face to home again, And called myself a foolTo think you'd leave the thimble men And live again by rule,And go to mass and keep the fast And till the little patch:My wish to have you home was past Before I raised the latchAnd pushed the door and saw you, John, Sitting down there.
How cool you came in here, begad, As if you owned the place!But rest yourself there now, my lad, 'Tis good to see your face;My dream is out, and now by it I think I know my mind:At six o'clock this house you'll quit, And leave no grief behind; --But until six o'clock, John-John, My bit you'll share.
The neighbours' shame of me began When first I brought you in;To wed and keep a tinker man They thought a kind of sin;But now this three year since you're gone 'Tis pity me they do,And that I'd rather have, John-John, Than that they'd pity you.Pity for me and you, John-John, I could not bear.
Oh, you're my husband right enough, But what's the good of that?You know you never were the stuff To be the cottage cat,To watch the fire and hear me lock The door and put out Shep --But there now, it is six o'clock And time for you to step.God bless and keep you far, John-John! And that's my prayer.
