Voices of our sullen North,
carnaptious on the tongue,
waylay the splendid lyrics
he breathes on sibilant airwaves.
From him they arise and are gone
while my harsh Ulster vowels
threaten placid harmonies
with discordant rendering.
Images that fresh images beget,
English words from an Irish heart
tumble and dance, reborn;
old children to a new mother.
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