Would shine like a star of gold;
But when it grows in the farmer’s close
‘Tis a shocking weed, we’re told.
Yet common things
May have their wings
To help our souls above;
And wayside weeds,
Like kindly deeds,
Spring from a father’s love.
The cushag flower had fairy power
In olden times, you know,
To bear you away on a summer’s day
Wherever you wished to go.
Its golden wings
Were slender things
To carry souls aloft;
But fairy tales,
Like freshening gales,
May have their uses oft.
The cushag flower in a stormy hour
Shines brighter for the gloom;
So kindly deeds, like wayside weeds,
May shine when troubles loom.
Old folks would say,
In their own day,
When troubles took their fill,
And times were bad,
And hearts were sad.
“There’s gool on the cushag still!”
Now the cushag we know must never grow
Where the farmer’s work is done;
But along the rills in the heart of the hills
The cushag may shine like the sun,
Where the golden flowers
Have fairy powers
To gladden our hearts with their grace;
And in Vannin Veg Veen,
In the valleys green,
The cushags have still a place.
|Jacobaea vulgaris: cushag|
Source: Manx Literature
- Cushag is an alternative name for ragwort, Jacobaea vulgaris
- Vannin Veg Veen is Manx dialect for Dear Little Isle of Man