Painting of Molly by Steven French B.A M. phil Painting of Molly by Steven French B.A M. phil.
County lane in summer

We tramped the roads, together

Tinker Wullie, and me,
My name is Molly O'Caroll
And his woman, I will always be.
Some said I could have fared better
But they could never see, the soul
Of the laddie, who made me smile
When he sang, just for me.

I fell pregnant after the Inchture Fair
It was my secret, for a while,
That lassie, Mona Lisa, now I know
The secret behind her smile,
For a lassie's heart is a mystery
When it nurtures the life, within
Of this tiny soul, growing day by day
Be it a pauper, a peasant or King.

And I shall love this child, forever
Aye, my own life I would give,
Just to hear his first cry of life
This gift of life, I give.

We were picking berries at Weem
That summer, when we first knew,
We were wedded in Glen Lyon Kirk
As we pledged our love, so true.
We walked the Birk's o' Aberfeldy
And made love by it's scented banks,
Sat together within the poet's bower
And to the god of love, gave thanks.

If my first born is a boy
Then Robbie shall be his name,
His grandfather was an Irish tinker
And from County Cork, he came,
His hair was wild and flowing
Like the dark and stormy sea
And his name shall be celebrated,
For his namesake, this child,
Shall be.

For Molly O'Caroll, a tinker woman.