Mama

Irish in her soul is she... (...half, that is, with good witch pow'r.) Netherlander wise and proud... (...half, that is, her natal dow'r.) Brightly laughing at the wind, Thunder, lightening...next of kin. Gardens blossom with her care, Fragrant roses, maidenhair. Rich brocade and polished wood, Formal dining understood. Linen fine and silver spoon, Tea-time in the afternoon. Green becomes her, green of jade, Green of Ireland's hidden glade. Wisps and willows, mist and fog... Longs to walk near Irish bog. Born to laugh and taught to cry. Follow rules...though wonder why. Follows rules...yet daring she, First to flaunt adversity. Irish love and Holland heart... (...choose to meld, choose to be...) Richer from the strength of each... (...soul made whole...in harmony.)