The Hiring of Dan Magee

I am an honest farmer’s son, my name is Dan Magee
I was born and reared in a wee townland not far from Tandragee.
At fifteen I was straight and strong, for that age fairly tall,
I saw my father’s shoulders bent, my mother’s frame grow small.

Says my old man to me one day, ‘I’ve reared you well till now ‘
You can drive a plough and harrow, and neatly milk a cow.
The family’s young, you’re now a man; it’s getting too much for me
We’ll talk it o’er with Ma to-night and see what you must do.

That night we talked till the embers died and at last did all agree
That I’d attend next Hiring Fair, try what my luck might be
I’d need a pair of working brogues, strong socks, a shirt or two
For heavy days in the sleet an’ rain, an oul’ coat of me da’s would do.

Hamiltonsbawn was the nearest place for a lad like me to go
And I left one morn for my first sojourn as the cock began to crow.
I stood in the fair in the cold still air, and the farmers passed me by
My soda farl had long since gone and my bottle of milk was dry.

At last when hope had almost fled and my courage ebbed away
A man came over, sized me up, and then to me did say,
‘ If you can milk, an’ mow, an’ drive, my lad, I think you’ll do’.
Now Willie McCann was a dacent man should I never meet another
But Liza Jane was a daughter of Cain – or Tam the divil’s mother
She had me up at the skrake of day an’ out at the sun’s first

Six cows to milk and the byres to clean before I touched a bite.

Poor Willie, he did the best he could to make up for the heartless Jane
By giving me pokes of tobacco and a few pence, now and again,
But his kindly deeds were wasted – Once bitten you’re always shy,
And I swore there’d never be another Jane, not till the day I die.

Now my long half-year of torture came at last to a welcome end.
I bade good-bye to Willie and left him as a friend.
But the back of me hand to Liza Jane and all my sympathy too
To the poor unfortunate divil who’ll take my place in the queue.