The Black Haired Lass

The Black Haired Lass

I was struck by the number of couples playing together in the ad hoc sessions in pubs at the Joe Mooney Festival in Drumshanbo, Co Leitrim. And I got to thinking how great an opportunity the traditional irish music scene is for people of all ages to meet partners, make new friends and renew acquaintances. The Irish session has it all; great music, an informal welcoming atmosphere and the odd pint of beer thrown in (for dutch courage). Where better to make eyes…


The Black Haired Lass

A new set starts, and I pass as

The black haired lass, smiling over,

Sets the bow stroking the strings.

How sweetly the body sings

As she sways.

She’s pure mischief.

Fingertips plié and sauté down the neck,

Pretty ballerinas born to perform.

Music bubbles up and meshes before

Surging under the bridge and my notes too

Are swept up by the seamless wave.

Every foot tapping.

My eyes stray again

And delay when

She casts me another smile.

I flounder in the fiddlers gaze while her

Eyelids float like feathers,

Up and down to the end.

“What was the first tune, at the start?”

“Happy to meet, sorry to part.”



Reply, I'm all eyes.

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