rolls in among the crew.

Then they may sit, with pipes a-lit,

and many a joke and 'yarn';—

Adieu to Belashanny,

and the winding banks of Erne!

The music of the waterfall,

the mirror of the tide,

When all the green-hill'd harbour

is full from side to side,

From Portnasun to Bulliebawns,

and round the Abbey Bay,

From rocky Inis Saimer

to Coolnargit sandhills gray;

While far upon the southern line,

to guard it like a wall,

[3]

The Leitrim mountains clothed in blue

gaze calmly over all,

And watch the ship sail up or down,

the red flag at her stern;—

 Prev. P 4/46 next