Oh, Dear, what can the matter be?

I've not got much to say today, only that I've been singing lots to keep myself company as I walk along. My songs make me miss home so much, especially the rare ones I learned from Da. It's where I learned about Irish culture, cos me da never spoke much of his home or his people. A funny thing I've found in these songs is that the hero or scoundrel is always the same Johnny, that rat bastard!

It's been right cold, and windy too, with the snow coming down round me ears and freezing me eyes shut. It brings be back to me mam wrapping me up in flannel stockings and petticoats when I was a child, and even as I left she was piling shawls atop my shoulders. At night I snuggle down in my shawls and petticoats and shiver, singing quietly to myself of Caledonia, Inisfree, and the winding river Roe.