Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

He quickly ran to her

And found she was dead

And there on her bosom

Many salt-tears he shed

He ran home to his father

With his gun in his hand

Saying "Father, dear father

I have shot Molly Bán"

Her white apron wrapped around her

He took her for a swan

But a hush and a sigh

'Twas his own Molly Bán

He roamed near the place

Where his true love was slain

He wept bitter tears

But his cries were in vain

As he looked on the lake

A swan glided by

And the sun slowly sank

In the gray of sky

“How do you know it?” I whispered into her ear. Her body shivered. Did I do that?

She swallowed before answering. “My, uh, my Maimeó used to sing this to us when we were small.” A small tear threatened from her glassy eye making me uneasy.

“What’s a Maw-mo?” I asked, curious as hell.

“Maimeó is what we call my grandmother. She’s born and bred Irish. Came to the United States, Jersey, in the sixties carrying my father.”

“That explains the name MacLochlainn,” I said, a slight grin tugging at my lips.

“Yeah, Americans assume I’m Scottish because of the whole ‘Mac’ thing but I’m one hundred percent Irish. My mother’s family is Irish as well, but they came to the U.S. during the potato famine.” That’s when I realized that this must be like coming home for January.

“It also explains the red highlights,” I blurted out without realizing. I almost slapped my hand over my mouth.

Her mouth began to form the question, but out of nowhere a man lifted me from my seat, saving me...possibly.

“Ah, it is you!” He exclaimed loudly for the whole pub to hear. He slapped me on the back, making me choke. “Right! Let’s get pissed, ya’ bastard!” He bellowed making everyone cheer.

“I’m sorry,” I said, as he pushed me toward the bar, “do I know you?”