Fare Thee Well - An Irish Dirge
Sad war torn country
rolling hills spattered with blood,
lush green grass, to mud,
brothers marching off to war,
sons running off to their fate.
Fair thee well she said,
and kissed him upon the lips,
return to me love,
“Fair thee well my sweet Michael,
Fair thee well, fair thee well now.”
High upon the banks,
is where she lost her lover,
a hero’s ending,
though no comfort does it bring,
years ago, she mourns him still.
Softly she sings there,
as she lays upon his grave,
softly she cries there,
“Fair the well my sweet Michael,
Fair thee well, fair thee well now.”
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
