Yalith
03-11-2004, 01:00 PM
Old Mickey was young once.
He worked hard
from sunup till night.
He dug until his fingers bled,
pulling potatoes
from cold, rocky soil.
He dreamed noble dreams
and ate like a pauper.
Then hope docked nearby.
He blessed Old Saint Patrick
as he begged alms for passage.
Soon he gathered his children
and his wife
and sailed on a ship for opportunity.
Across the blue
the grass was greener
but harder to find.
Industry hung in a poison fog
that smothered the summers
but could not block the gray winters.
Old Mickey worked hard
from sunup till supper.
He worked until his fingers bled,
moving cargo on brutish,
salty docks.
He dreamed noble dreams
and ate bacon and biscuits
salted with tears of gratitude.
Copyright 2004 Jennifer George :stpatty:
He worked hard
from sunup till night.
He dug until his fingers bled,
pulling potatoes
from cold, rocky soil.
He dreamed noble dreams
and ate like a pauper.
Then hope docked nearby.
He blessed Old Saint Patrick
as he begged alms for passage.
Soon he gathered his children
and his wife
and sailed on a ship for opportunity.
Across the blue
the grass was greener
but harder to find.
Industry hung in a poison fog
that smothered the summers
but could not block the gray winters.
Old Mickey worked hard
from sunup till supper.
He worked until his fingers bled,
moving cargo on brutish,
salty docks.
He dreamed noble dreams
and ate bacon and biscuits
salted with tears of gratitude.
Copyright 2004 Jennifer George :stpatty: