Shlaunman Poem by Francis Duggan

This bogland can be a lonely place
No house near just open space
I shlaun out the soft dark peat
For sun to dry for Winter heat.

I work for the long Winter night
To keep the fireplace burning bright
To keep house warm and cold away
When frost winds blow freezing gray.

Soggy damp the bogland ground
And not a human soul around
Sun shine bright and sky so blue
But only myself to talk to.

Sheep and their lambs grazing free
A quarter mile or so from me
Bashful creatures mountain sheep
Their safe distance from me keep.

They still have that wildborn fear
And feel unease with human near
Creatures of the hill and bog
They fear man and man's sheep dog.

I can hear a skylark sing
Up towards heaven's gate he wing
Feathered minstrel of the sky
Sing to angels songs of joy.

Happy bird wildborn and shy
Who hide away from human eye
With tiny heart untouched by woe
His home here where bracken grow.

It's seven thirty my watch say so
And it's time for me to pack and go
Back home to eat the supper bite
And later retire for the night.

Come tomorrow I'll be here once more
To shlaun out peat a tiresome chore
In homeground of the sheep and lark
Who sing from dawn's first light till dark.