Here you will find the Poem The Cut Finger of poet Ellis Parker Butler
THE GOSSOON [Weeping] It?s bleedin?! It?s bleedin?! THE OULD WOMAN [Soothingly] An? shure, me lad, `t is bleedin?; But come, me hearty laddy buck, be brave an? do not cry; A lad that?s learnin? readin? sh?u'd be far beyant the heedin? Av a tiny bit o? finger cut that hurrts a bit foreby. `Ere ye come till wan an? twinty Ye?ll be havin? hurrts in plinty An? ye?ll learn a bit o? bleedin? doesn?t mean ye?re goin? t? die. THE GOSSOON [Crying] It?s bleedin?! It?s bleedin?! THE OULD WOMAN [Comfortingly] An? shure, me lad, `t is bleedin?; But he?s me slashin? buckeen, an? he will not weep at all; A rag is all `t is needin? fer t? sthop the whole proceedin?, An?, shure, a bit o? rosy blood won?t make me gossoon bawl; Fer `t is but wan way av knowin? Ye have good red blood a-flowin? An? a-workin? all inside av ye t? make ye strong an? tall. THE GOSSOON [Sobbing] It?s bleedin?! It?s bleedin?! THE OULD WOMAN [Lovingly] Aye, aye, me lad, `t is bleedin?, An? some foine day yer hearrt will bleed as bleeds the hearrt av me. The saints ye will be pleadin?, but `t is little they?ll be heedin?, Fer the worrld is full av bleedin? hearrts on either side the sea. An? I?d die t? aise the achin? Whin ye feel yer hearrt a-brealdn?, But, ah! the poor ould woman won?t be there t? comfort ye.
