“Darkies sing a song on the old plantation,

Sing it as we sang it in days long since gone by.”

“Darkies sing a song on the old plantation, Sing it as we sang it in days long since gone by.”

Inglewood’s brown eyes softened and saddened still more as he continued his monologue of resignation to such a rollicking and romantic tune. But the blue eyes of Michael Moon brightened and hardened with a light that Inglewood did not understand. Many centuries, and many villages and valleys, would have been happier if Inglewood or Inglewood’s countrymen had ever understood that light, or guessed at the first blink that it was the battle star of Ireland.