for Steve Doolan
*
A man saw a maid, dancing high on a hill
She was wild as the waves of the sea
I’m thinking, he thought, that she’s looking my way
And she sure has a glad eye for me
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
No, sir, she said, ‘tis a trick of the light
You’re deceived, for I’m looking elsewhere
And ‘tis only by chance that my mischievous glance
Has been caught by your curious stare
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
How she danced, how she danced, on the top of the hill
How she swirled like a cloud in the blue
Appearing to flirt with a flick of her skirt
And the bat of an eyelash or two
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
She was here, she was gone, she was there, she was gone
As the moon on the wings of the fay
For a moment, the light, then the fall of the night
Then the smile, then the looking away
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
Now your man was a no nonsense sensible cove
And time waits for no man, nor he
It was tea-time, and late, so he asked the girl straight
What’s with the glad eye for me?
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
She stopped for a moment, up high on the hill
And she blushed to the prettiest pink
Why, no sir, she lied, there’s just stuff in my eye
And your man is mistaken in drink
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
He thought for a minute, there wasn’t much in it
And tea had a finer appeal
So he bid her good day, in a chivalrous way
Doffed his hat, and then turned on his heel
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
Come back! she said, ‘Twas all bullshit! she said
Though my fancy is fickle, ‘tis true
You may take me, or leave me, but better believe me
I so have a glad eye for you
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
He thought to himself, she’s a right silly lass
But she sure has a glad eye for me
So he beckoned her down from the top of the hill
And took her back home for some tea
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no
For truly it’s really quite tricky to tell
Whether your man has a glad eye as well
*
© Gail Foster 5th October 2016
