6 AUGUST 1910, Page 18

POETRY.

GRANNIE'S BOY.

WHERE'S the wee boy that will ride on my arm—.

Eh ! the fine rider he'll be by and by—

All the way over to Mallory's farm, Over the bog, wid the win' blowin' high P Mallory's farm, at the top o' the hill, That's where his grannie sits all the day long, Out at the door, where she spins wid a will, All the day singin' her bit of a song.

Where's the wee man that his grannie loves best P Where's the wee spalpeen that tangles ber t'read P Where's the bold rider cornea out o' the West, Lightin' the world wid the gold on his head P

That's what his grannie sings all the day long, Turnin' her wheel till it hums like a bee.

Murtha! the stren'th of him. Gad 1 he's that strong One of these days he'll be carryin' me !

J. E. M. BiRLow.