Our Fine Irish Lady
True you ride the finest horse,
The finest steed ever seen,
You own the greatest riches,
Most beautiful silken robes,
Yet none mine.
True you have the finest eyes,
The finest, finest green,
You own the most intriging gaze,
Emeralds coming to be,
Yet none mine.
True you have the finest heart,
The finest ever touched,
You give the purest love,
Warmest ever to be,
Yet none mine.
But I could never love you now,
Ride away on your fine steed,
With your beatiful, flowing robes,
Avert your lovely gaze,
And let you heart grow cold,
For, my irish lady,
You may ride into the night.
This elegant irish poem was written by one of the many people of the goddess, Nicola Bowerman, you can email her at Toraton wood, Erin. (she has quite a few of them pots of gold stashed away, incase you want one...)
Email: nico.b@mailexcite.com
