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Mary Hynes

Mary Hynes Lyrics

Song Mary Hynes
Artist Joanie Madden
Album A Whistle on the Wind
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[00:00.00] 作词 : Raftery
[00:06.83] That Sunday, on my oath, the rain was a heavy overcoat
[00:09.58] On a poor poet, and when the rain began
[00:12.73] In fleeces of water to buckleap like a goat
[00:15.76] I was only a walking penance reaching Kiltartan;
[00:19.69] And there, so suddenly that my cold spine
[00:23.49] Broke out on the arch of my back in a rainbow,
[00:26.62] This woman surged out of the day with so much sunlight
[00:29.57] I was nailed there like a scarecrow,
[00:32.61] But I found my tongue and the breath to balance it
[00:35.96] And I said: “If I bow to you with this hump of rain
[00:37.95] I’ll fall on my collarbone, but look, I’ll chance it,
[00:41.14] And after falling, bow again.”
[00:43.93] She laughed, ah, she was gracious, and softly she said to me,
[00:50.36] “For all your lovely talking I go marketing with an ass,
[00:54.10] I’m no hill-queen, alas, or Ireland, that grass widow,
[00:56.85] So hurry on, sweet Raftery, or you’ll keep me late for Mass!”
[01:03.00] When we left the dark evening at last outside her door,
[01:06.34] She lighted a lamp though a gaming company
[01:09.53] Could have sighted each trump by the light of her unshawled poll,
[01:12.80] And indeed she welcomed me
[01:14.46] With a big quart bottle and I mooned there over glasses
[01:17.81] Till she took that bird, the phoenix, from the spit;
[01:20.60] And, “Raftery,” says she, “a feast is no bad dowry,
[01:23.48] Sit down now and taste it!”
[01:26.38] When I praised Ballylea before it was only for the mountains
[01:29.34] Where I broke horses and ran wild,
[01:31.73] And for its seven crooked smoky houses
[01:35.23] Where seven crones are tied
[01:37.87] All day to the listening top of a half door,
[01:39.92] And nothing to be heard or seen
[01:42.62] But the drowsy dropping of water
[01:45.36] And a gander on the green.
[01:47.26] But, Boys! I was blind as a kitten till last Sunday,
[01:52.09] This town is earth’s very navel!
[01:55.58] Seven palaces are thatched there of a Monday,
[01:58.97] And O the seven queens whose pale
[02:04.08] Proud faces with their seven glimmering sisters,
[02:07.61] The Pleiads, light the evening where they stroll,
[02:11.50] And one can find the well by their wet footprints,
[02:14.14] And make one’s soul;
[02:17.04] For Mary Hynes, rising, gathers up there
[02:19.94] Her ripening body from all the love stories;
[02:24.37] And rinsing herself at morning, shakes her hair
[02:27.67] And stirs the old gay books in libraries;
[02:32.16] And I’ll wager now that my song is ended,
[02:36.29] Loughrea, that old dead city where the weavers
[02:40.38] Have pined at the mouldering looms since Helen broke the thread,
[02:44.82] Will be piled again with silver fleeces:
[02:47.95] O the new coats and big horses! The raving and the ribbons!
[02:52.46] And Ballylea in hubbub and uproar!
[02:54.90] And may Raftery be dead if he’s not there to ruffle it
[02:58.54] On his own mare, Shank’s mare, that never needs a spur.
[03:03.82] But ah, Sweet Light, though your face coins
[03:07.66] My heart’s very metals, isn’t it folly without a pardon
[03:12.49] For Raftery to sing so that men, east and west, come
[03:16.48] Spying on your vegetable garden?
[03:21.11] We could be so quiet in your chimney corner–
[03:25.31] Yet how could a poet hold you any more than the sun,
[03:28.05] Burning in the big bright hazy heart of harvest,
[03:31.29] Could be tied in a henrun?
[03:34.98] Bless your poet then and let him go!
[03:39.80] He’ll never stack a haggard with his breath:
[03:43.11] His thatch of words will not keep rain or snow
[03:46.45] Out of the house, or keep back death.
[03:50.78] But Raftery, rising, curses as he sees you
[03:54.47] Stir the fire and wash delph,
[03:56.91] That he was bred a poet whose selfish trade it is
[04:03.69] To keep no beauty to himself.
[00:00.00] zuo ci : Raftery
[00:06.83] That Sunday, on my oath, the rain was a heavy overcoat
[00:09.58] On a poor poet, and when the rain began
[00:12.73] In fleeces of water to buckleap like a goat
[00:15.76] I was only a walking penance reaching Kiltartan
[00:19.69] And there, so suddenly that my cold spine
[00:23.49] Broke out on the arch of my back in a rainbow,
[00:26.62] This woman surged out of the day with so much sunlight
[00:29.57] I was nailed there like a scarecrow,
[00:32.61] But I found my tongue and the breath to balance it
[00:35.96] And I said: " If I bow to you with this hump of rain
[00:37.95] I' ll fall on my collarbone, but look, I' ll chance it,
[00:41.14] And after falling, bow again."
[00:43.93] She laughed, ah, she was gracious, and softly she said to me,
[00:50.36] " For all your lovely talking I go marketing with an ass,
[00:54.10] I' m no hillqueen, alas, or Ireland, that grass widow,
[00:56.85] So hurry on, sweet Raftery, or you' ll keep me late for Mass!"
[01:03.00] When we left the dark evening at last outside her door,
[01:06.34] She lighted a lamp though a gaming company
[01:09.53] Could have sighted each trump by the light of her unshawled poll,
[01:12.80] And indeed she welcomed me
[01:14.46] With a big quart bottle and I mooned there over glasses
[01:17.81] Till she took that bird, the phoenix, from the spit
[01:20.60] And, " Raftery," says she, " a feast is no bad dowry,
[01:23.48] Sit down now and taste it!"
[01:26.38] When I praised Ballylea before it was only for the mountains
[01:29.34] Where I broke horses and ran wild,
[01:31.73] And for its seven crooked smoky houses
[01:35.23] Where seven crones are tied
[01:37.87] All day to the listening top of a half door,
[01:39.92] And nothing to be heard or seen
[01:42.62] But the drowsy dropping of water
[01:45.36] And a gander on the green.
[01:47.26] But, Boys! I was blind as a kitten till last Sunday,
[01:52.09] This town is earth' s very navel!
[01:55.58] Seven palaces are thatched there of a Monday,
[01:58.97] And O the seven queens whose pale
[02:04.08] Proud faces with their seven glimmering sisters,
[02:07.61] The Pleiads, light the evening where they stroll,
[02:11.50] And one can find the well by their wet footprints,
[02:14.14] And make one' s soul
[02:17.04] For Mary Hynes, rising, gathers up there
[02:19.94] Her ripening body from all the love stories
[02:24.37] And rinsing herself at morning, shakes her hair
[02:27.67] And stirs the old gay books in libraries
[02:32.16] And I' ll wager now that my song is ended,
[02:36.29] Loughrea, that old dead city where the weavers
[02:40.38] Have pined at the mouldering looms since Helen broke the thread,
[02:44.82] Will be piled again with silver fleeces:
[02:47.95] O the new coats and big horses! The raving and the ribbons!
[02:52.46] And Ballylea in hubbub and uproar!
[02:54.90] And may Raftery be dead if he' s not there to ruffle it
[02:58.54] On his own mare, Shank' s mare, that never needs a spur.
[03:03.82] But ah, Sweet Light, though your face coins
[03:07.66] My heart' s very metals, isn' t it folly without a pardon
[03:12.49] For Raftery to sing so that men, east and west, come
[03:16.48] Spying on your vegetable garden?
[03:21.11] We could be so quiet in your chimney corner
[03:25.31] Yet how could a poet hold you any more than the sun,
[03:28.05] Burning in the big bright hazy heart of harvest,
[03:31.29] Could be tied in a henrun?
[03:34.98] Bless your poet then and let him go!
[03:39.80] He' ll never stack a haggard with his breath:
[03:43.11] His thatch of words will not keep rain or snow
[03:46.45] Out of the house, or keep back death.
[03:50.78] But Raftery, rising, curses as he sees you
[03:54.47] Stir the fire and wash delph,
[03:56.91] That he was bred a poet whose selfish trade it is
[04:03.69] To keep no beauty to himself.
[00:00.00] zuò cí : Raftery
[00:06.83] That Sunday, on my oath, the rain was a heavy overcoat
[00:09.58] On a poor poet, and when the rain began
[00:12.73] In fleeces of water to buckleap like a goat
[00:15.76] I was only a walking penance reaching Kiltartan
[00:19.69] And there, so suddenly that my cold spine
[00:23.49] Broke out on the arch of my back in a rainbow,
[00:26.62] This woman surged out of the day with so much sunlight
[00:29.57] I was nailed there like a scarecrow,
[00:32.61] But I found my tongue and the breath to balance it
[00:35.96] And I said: " If I bow to you with this hump of rain
[00:37.95] I' ll fall on my collarbone, but look, I' ll chance it,
[00:41.14] And after falling, bow again."
[00:43.93] She laughed, ah, she was gracious, and softly she said to me,
[00:50.36] " For all your lovely talking I go marketing with an ass,
[00:54.10] I' m no hillqueen, alas, or Ireland, that grass widow,
[00:56.85] So hurry on, sweet Raftery, or you' ll keep me late for Mass!"
[01:03.00] When we left the dark evening at last outside her door,
[01:06.34] She lighted a lamp though a gaming company
[01:09.53] Could have sighted each trump by the light of her unshawled poll,
[01:12.80] And indeed she welcomed me
[01:14.46] With a big quart bottle and I mooned there over glasses
[01:17.81] Till she took that bird, the phoenix, from the spit
[01:20.60] And, " Raftery," says she, " a feast is no bad dowry,
[01:23.48] Sit down now and taste it!"
[01:26.38] When I praised Ballylea before it was only for the mountains
[01:29.34] Where I broke horses and ran wild,
[01:31.73] And for its seven crooked smoky houses
[01:35.23] Where seven crones are tied
[01:37.87] All day to the listening top of a half door,
[01:39.92] And nothing to be heard or seen
[01:42.62] But the drowsy dropping of water
[01:45.36] And a gander on the green.
[01:47.26] But, Boys! I was blind as a kitten till last Sunday,
[01:52.09] This town is earth' s very navel!
[01:55.58] Seven palaces are thatched there of a Monday,
[01:58.97] And O the seven queens whose pale
[02:04.08] Proud faces with their seven glimmering sisters,
[02:07.61] The Pleiads, light the evening where they stroll,
[02:11.50] And one can find the well by their wet footprints,
[02:14.14] And make one' s soul
[02:17.04] For Mary Hynes, rising, gathers up there
[02:19.94] Her ripening body from all the love stories
[02:24.37] And rinsing herself at morning, shakes her hair
[02:27.67] And stirs the old gay books in libraries
[02:32.16] And I' ll wager now that my song is ended,
[02:36.29] Loughrea, that old dead city where the weavers
[02:40.38] Have pined at the mouldering looms since Helen broke the thread,
[02:44.82] Will be piled again with silver fleeces:
[02:47.95] O the new coats and big horses! The raving and the ribbons!
[02:52.46] And Ballylea in hubbub and uproar!
[02:54.90] And may Raftery be dead if he' s not there to ruffle it
[02:58.54] On his own mare, Shank' s mare, that never needs a spur.
[03:03.82] But ah, Sweet Light, though your face coins
[03:07.66] My heart' s very metals, isn' t it folly without a pardon
[03:12.49] For Raftery to sing so that men, east and west, come
[03:16.48] Spying on your vegetable garden?
[03:21.11] We could be so quiet in your chimney corner
[03:25.31] Yet how could a poet hold you any more than the sun,
[03:28.05] Burning in the big bright hazy heart of harvest,
[03:31.29] Could be tied in a henrun?
[03:34.98] Bless your poet then and let him go!
[03:39.80] He' ll never stack a haggard with his breath:
[03:43.11] His thatch of words will not keep rain or snow
[03:46.45] Out of the house, or keep back death.
[03:50.78] But Raftery, rising, curses as he sees you
[03:54.47] Stir the fire and wash delph,
[03:56.91] That he was bred a poet whose selfish trade it is
[04:03.69] To keep no beauty to himself.
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