Tuam Lullaby

Issue sevenIssue Seven Poetry

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By Gary McCartney



Hush, Macushla, time to sleep

The night is getting colder

Pray the Lord your soul to keep

For you’ll not get much older


Your father you will never name

Your mother died of guilt

Their sin is yours so feel the shame

And hide beneath your quilt


But don’t you fret for family near

To soothe your fevered brow

You only have the Lord to fear

For we’re your sisters now


The world is cruel and hard of heart

No place for you out there

Our father who in heaven art

Makes room for you my dear


The fallen angel’s on his way

The devil’s on the stairs

So better clutch your rosary

Better say your prayers


You’ll never find your state of grace

Your father’s or your mother’s

An unmarked grave your resting place

Along with all the others