Here you will find the Poem Queen Gormlai of poet Padraic Colum
NOT fingers that e'er felt Fine things within their hold Drew needles in and through, And smoothed out the fold, And put the hodden patch Upon the patch of grey Unseemly is the garb That's for my back to-day! O skinflint woman, Mor, Who knows that I speak true I had women once, A queen's retinue; And they were ones who knew The raiment of a queen; Their thoughts were on my tire, Their minds were on my mien! Light of hand and apt, And companionable, Seven score women, Mor, I had at my call, Who am to-day begrudged The blink of candle-light To put it on, the garb, That leaves me misbedight. I wore a blue Norse hood The time I watched the turns And feats of Clann O'Neill We quaffed from goblet-horns; A crimson cloak I wore When, with Niall the King, I watched the horses race At Limerick in the Spring! In Tara of King Niall The gold was round the wine, And I was given the cup A furze-bright dress was mine; And now this clout to wear Where I rise to sup whey, With root-like stitches through The hodden on the grey! No more upon the board Candles for kings are lit, No more can I bid her And her bring gowning fit; The bramble is no friend It pulls at me and drags; The thorny ground is mine Where briars tear my rags!
