My Donal

My donal he works on the sea
On the waves that blow wild and free
He splices the ropes then he sets the sails
While southwards he goes to the home of the whales

He never thinks of me far behind
Or the torments that rage in my mind
He’s mine for only part of the year
And left all alone wishing his face is near

And ye ladies that smell of wild rose
Think you for your essence to wherein men go
Think you of the wives and the lovers that yearn
Were men that return from hunting the spur

My donal he works on the sea
On the waves that blow wild and free
He splices the ropes then he sets the sails
While southwards he goes to the home of the whales