Uair amhain - fado fado, On a little farm near Carraroe, Lived buachaill maith named Micheal Mor, An only son of thirty-four. When work was done at end of day, He'd settle down with cupan tae, And seldom felt the call to stroll, Or spend the evening time ag ol. His intellectual needs were drawn From books like Peig and Iosagain. And so it was -bliain in -bliain out, Our Micheal hadn't moved about. He dreamt of cailins -most men do, But never sinned -an dtuigeann tu? Meantime -up in Atha Cliath, A cailin deas had bright idea: When leathanta saoire time came by, decided she would like to try Ait beag ciuin like Carraroe (No foreign food; not far to go.) And there to meet the native clann Agus b'fheidir find herself a man! This cailin deas with eyes so blue Was known in town as City Sue, The lusty buachailli came crawlin', And all agreed she was go h-alainn! She left her men in state of shock, O Micheal Mor - bi curamach! This Scarlet Woman knows each trick, She's heading West - Beware a mhic! The lights shone in the Parish Hall, For the local Fainne Wearers Ball. Bhi Micheal ann - bhi Susie ann Dressed in most revealing gown! Our brave Cuchulainnn of the West (His hurling medals across his chest) Exclaimed - when City Sue came in - "In ainm De - well - feic ar sin!" Though nervous, still, he took a chance: "Cead mile failte - will you dance?" Go luath, on the floor they strut, cheek to cheek - from head to foot! Sue whispered into Micheal's ear: "Eist liom now - let's disappear. We'll use my place - the door's unlocked, You'll stay the night - seomra a h-ocht!" Chriost! Micheal's cheann was in a spin - Ni raibh se thinking thoughts mar sin! He blessed himself... this Jessabel Would surely damn his soul to hell! He stood aghast - could hardly stutter, So off he bolted ar a rothar. And straight abhaile - into bed, Decades of the rosary said EPILOGUE Micheal Mor still sleeps alone, In his leaba beag - Ochon, Ochon. He often dreams of seomra a h-ocht: WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN - O Micheal Bocht!!!!