and the winding banks of Erne.

[7]

If ever I'm a money'd man,

I mean, please God, to cast

My golden anchor in the place

where youthful years were pass'd;

Though heads that now are black and brown

must meanwhile gather gray,

New faces rise by every hearth,

and old ones drop away—

Yet dearer still that Irish hill

than all the world beside;

It's home, sweet home, where'er I roam

through lands and waters wide.

And if the Lord allows me,

I surely will return

To my native Belashanny,

and the winding banks of Erne.

ABBEY ASAROE

Gray, gray is Abbey Asaroe,

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