The Cut Finger

The Gossoon (Weeping)     Its bleedin! Its bleedin!     The Ould Woman (Soothingly)     An shure, me lad, t is bleedin;     But come, me hearty laddy buck, be brave an do not cry;     A lad thats learnin readin shu'd be far beyant the heedin     Av a tiny bit o finger cut that hurrts a bit foreby.     Ere ye come till wan an twinty     Yell be havin hurrts in plinty     An yell learn a bit o bleedin doesnt mean yere goin t die.     The Gossoon (Crying)     Its bleedin! Its bleedin!     The Ould Woman (Comfortingly)     An shure, me lad, t is bleedin;     But hes me slashin buckeen, an he will not weep at all;     A rag is all t is needin fer t sthop the whole proceedin,     An, shure, a bit o rosy blood wont make me gossoon bawl;     Fer t is but wan way av knowin     Ye have good red blood a-flowin     An a-workin all inside av ye t make ye strong an tall.     The Gossoon (Sobbing)     Its bleedin! Its bleedin!     The Ould Woman (Lovingly)     Aye, aye, me lad, t is bleedin,     An some foine day yer hearrt will bleed as bleeds the hearrt av me.     The saints ye will be pleadin, but t is little theyll be heedin,     Fer the worrld is full av bleedin hearrts on either side the sea.     An Id die t aise the achin     Whin ye feel yer hearrt a-brealdn,     But, ah! the poor ould woman wont be there t comfort ye.