Tinker's Moon

Photo: old postcard

Photo: Unknown

Four children on a rumbling cart, 

A woman trudging beside that load,

A lank man leaving the horse to guide

A wet road: a dry road:

A gravelly road that a woman shall walk

And a lank man leave the horse to guide; 

The tinker's children take their chance, and bide.

A lane leads on to one more lane, 

Photo: Unknown

An uphill to one more hill:

Photo: Syrie Kovitz

A potato patch to thin on the way, a hen to kill,

And hunger again: and sleep again:

And a moonlight flit while the salmon leaps

From a smouldering spot by the riverside;

The tinker's children take their chance, and bide.

When Wicklow woods first seemed to wait,

As still they wait tonight;

I heard that creaking, rumbling cart,

And stars the same were out. 

Photo: Wayne Tippetts

When you gave  pennies to the younger child,

A silent child: a tawny child:

Photo: Augustus Sherman

The tinker's children meekly are, and mild.

Photo: Unknown

And still I hear strange woods among

Whenever a creaking cart goes down;

The singsong twang of the bawneen man:

"Thank you my lady, thank you my lady,"

As when you gave the child a penny.

Photo: Syrie Kovitz

I heard it in an Irish voice to-day,

Photo: Unknown

And saw again though long gone by

Four children on a rumbling cart,

A woman trudging beside that load, 

Photo: Augustus Sherman

A lank man leaving the horse to guide

A wet road: a dry road:

A gravelly road for a moonlight flit

From a smouldering spot by the riverside;

I saw the stony, rocky road where the tinker's children bide. 

--Ewart Milne

Photo: Hugh Mangum

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