KILLYLESS

KILLYLESS

In Killyless, that little spot,
‘Twas there that I was born,
It owns no castles towering high
Its fair brow to adorn.
Its fields they are with daisies clad,
The modest violet fair,
And round the sheltering slopes you’ll find
The laughing primrose there.

The roses climb the garden wall
And make the air more sweet,
The dear old shamrock you will find
Just close beside your feet.
‘Twas there I spoke my lisping word
That mother taught me say;
Together put my little hands
And taught me how to pray.

‘Twas there I heard dear mother pray,
With fervent, earnest tone,
That God would bless her little boy,
And make him all His own.
That prayer is answered long ago,
And by and by I’ll see
Dear mother sweet who kissed my cheek,
And often prayed for me.

And when I land in that sweet place,
Where all is bright and fair,
Together we will praise His name,
The God Who answers prayer.

Malcolm McMaster, July 1929

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