(For Gail Angel Doyle’s Butterfly Kisses Contest)
All round the ring of Kerry’s highways, people point and cry
It’s 4 o’clock on the very dot and Mick’s rig is passing by;
It has glistening sheens of yellow, with cinnabar spots in red;
Rich lozenges of orange complete the livery, as this butterfly forges ahead!
She’s kissing those dew damp breezes, on a morn like an Irish dream,
As the sun’s rays like golden spokes;
Steal silently; through oaks of emerald green.
To light up the meadow’s buttercups, that border a hillside stream.
She hauls her load of butter, fresh from the herds of ‘Kerry’s spreads’
To sweeten the taste of a million slices, of European bread!
She’s making good time this morning as she passes the various towns,
By 9 am she makes Letterkenny, to lay her cargo down.
Mick checks his trusty wristwatch,
He needs to be back in Clonakilty town; to make a special call,
For by, begosh and begorrah ‘tis Father’s Day ‘n all.
And sweet Molly will be waiting there, by an ancient rock built wall!
So he spins the painted lady round, to take the south west route,
Tooting to the folks he recognises; as along that road he shoots.
At 1 o’clock he’s made it back, and parks the painted lady up,
He wanders back up the dusty track, just a Dad in working gear,
Straightening his aching back now his destination’s near.
He searches the milling kids all around; many colours their faces show,
And then he picks out his Molly as those raven curls she throws!
She runs to greet him at his call, raising her face to be kissed;
And she had chosen a painted lady, sure.. He felt how he had been missed!
He swings Molly up on high and they head back to the farm,
She showers him with sweet butterfly kisses
As rabbles of the creatures unravel, in clouds and colours of charm!
NB the Painted Lady is an Irish species of Butterfly