Diversion Poem by Matt Mooney

Sonny O'Dee, our master's mate,
Closed the gate and lifted the latch
Of the door painted in national green
After he tied up his jennet outside.

His brown hat had no ribbon band,
It was turned up here and up there.
It sheltered him in the wind and rain
And shaded his face from the sun.

His coat - a corn bag from his barn,
Was fastened with a single horsenail;
His step so slow had a ring of steel
From the tips of his hobnailed boots.

Over the road we could see him come
And Sonny O'Dee did'nt have to knock:
It was just our grammatical grilling time-
That blasted blitz for us at two o'clock!

So all in one voice we urgently called-
'Tá fear sa halla! ' (A man in the hall!) .
There would be sure to be fun for us all
As the master would be out in the hall.

Sonny spoke out like an Indian chief-
The master's voice was always even:
Whatever was said we hadn't a care
Once it would be a long conversation;
That would help at the end of the day
To shorten a little our long education! .