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By J.C.
MacDonald Hay
Transcribed by Tony McNeil
The following has been extracted
from the Gaelic Herald of Mar 1933
Is it not our bounden right,
To uphold with all our might,
And with tongue and pen to fight,
For our native Gaelic?
Guard the language known to Eve,
Ere the serpent did deceive,
And the last one we believe,
Mellow matchless Gaelic.
Pity the disloyal clown,
Who will dwell a while in town
And returning wears a frown
If he hears the Gaelic.
‘Tis amusing to behold,
Little misses ten years old
When they leave the country fold,
How they lose the Gaelic.
Some gay tillers of the soil,
Cross the line a little while,
And returning deem it “style”
To deny the Gaelic.
Lads and lasses in their teens,
Wearing airs of Kings and Queens,
Just a taste of Boston beans,
Makes them lose their Gaelic.
They return with finer clothes,
Speaking ‘Yankee’ through their nose;
That’s the way the Gaelic goes,
Pop goes the Gaelic.
Tho’ the so-called “tony set,”
Teach them quickly to forget,
they will all be loyal yet,
To their mother Gaelic.
Then abjure such silly pride,
Cast the ragged think aside,
Let your mongrel English slide,
Rather than the Gaelic.
Help the ‘Teachdaire’ to excel,
Its subscription list to swell,
Learn to read and write and spell,
In the good old Gaelic. |
