our bonnie ghirl

Location: Boston

She makes us laugh, she makes us cry
She keeps us bold, young and spry

She hails from the land, farm and sheep
In stitches of laughter she does keep
Us lucky few, come to know her well
Fallen under her Donegal spell

Tales of Gumsey, the farmer old
And brick of turf fending off the cold
How I wish a toast with lifted glass
To the wool wellies that cover her --- bum

So come, my friends. Cheer our Queen
Sceala’s own, dear sweet Rosaleen!

(This is ridiculous; I’m out of control. Stop me before I write again)

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our bonnie ghirl