Sara Morgan
Oh, me and my lass, one Sara Morgan
We lived by the waters of Lake Lorafin
In a bright little cottage built by her kin
For she was my love from the moors land
Every dawn we would fish a flounder or trout
And fry them right up in an egg butter melt
For the time that she lived made me smile and shout
For she was my love from the moors land
We had one little child on the feast of Golowan
And she slept in a basket that rocked in the wind
And Sara would laugh when she gave us big grins
For she was my love from the moors land
One spring rainy day I heard a thunder like bolt
And I ran to the cottage but all was in smoke
And Sara had saved her, but died from poison creote
For she was my love from the moors land
We buried her there by the place she did love
And Sara would grow to resemble her mom
And I miss you my darling in heaven above
For she was my love from the moors land.
© 2000 James Parker Haley
