Poem:
© Elizabeth Shane
Music
© 2003 Gordon Bok, BMI
Elizabeth Shane (1877-1951) was a poet from Donegal who knew her land and her waters well. This poem has the feel of a lot of the country-folk I've met in my visits to Ireland. "Turf" is peat, dug up in the bogs and dried in stacks, for fuel.
Gordon – Spanish guitar
Mary and Manus are working
the turf together
Old they are, the two of
them, old and grey
Over the bog the sea-wind
sings in the heather
Night clouds lie on the
hilltops, far away
They will have comfort now
when the nights are colder
They will have turf, aye,
plenty of turf to spare
Light she steps with the
heavy creel on her shoulder
Load on load for the stack
that is building there
Now there is a deeper note
than the sea-wind's singing
Soft it comes, on the
breath of the dying day
Down in the hollow the
bell from the chapel is ringing
And Mary and Manus stand
for a minute and pray
Soft and low on the air
each long note lingers
Quietly bending their old,
grey heads they stand
Making the holy sign with
work-worn fingers
Wrapped in the sudden
peace that has blessed the land
Is it the light of heaven
on the wide sea breaking
Spreading its glory out
like a golden rain
And with the light of the
world in their eyes a-waking
Mary and Manus are working
the turf again
The Angelus is recorded on the album In Concert