MY NATIVE VILLAGE.
Dear Fiarana! loveliest village of the green.
Where humble happiness endeared each scene;
The never-failing brook at Drumod Mill,
The parish church on John Nutley's hill.
There in the old thatched chapel, skilled to rule,
The one-legged master taught the parish school;
A learned man was he, but stern to view—
His crutch he often used, and well the gossoons knew.