The Daughter Of A Traveller
The first of the calendar Spring and cold the morning air
And the sellers with their horses crowded in the old Town Square
And the traveller's daughter with the light brown hair on her pinto pony trotted up and down
Displaying to the buyers the animal she had for sale on the streets of Millstreet Town.
Her shoulder length hair blowing back ward in the wind she wore a bright blue dress
This daughter of a travelling man of the no fixed address
Her cheeks they were a rosy red flushed from the morning cold
And she seemed so beautiful to me a boy of eight years old.
In her late teens and so carefree the pride of the travelling clan
One born by a by road in a horse drawn caravan
Born with the lust for wander and the wandering ways of life
To one of her fellow travellers she would one day become a wife.
The deals were clenched and scent of horse was in the chilly air
And very few non horse people to be seen at a horse fair
The farmers and the jobbers and the travellers and horses were bought and sold
And of the equine trading day great stories have been told.
She made her white and brown pinto pony trot up and down the street
She rode without a saddle for a woman quite a feat
But she was born to ride horses this young beauty of the road
The one who wore the bright blue dress of the no fixed abode.
Though that was in the mid fifties and time has left me looking gray
And many years have passed since then it seems like yesterday
That I watched her at the March Fair trotting her pinto up and down
The daughter of a traveller through the streets of Millstreet Town.
Comments about this poem (The Daughter Of A Traveller by Francis Duggan )
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