If its beams will only show me
The smile on one sailor’s face!
[p 58]
]THE “BOHAREEN”[1]
In the kingdom they call “Kerry” there ’s a “bohareen” goes climbin’
Above the thatch o’ cots at Ballymore—
A little rovin’ footway—an’ the goat bells keep a-chimin’
In the heather slopin’ upward from the shore
For the slopes are clad with heather, noddin’ heather, purple heather,
Where the bees make honey-music in the noon;
An’ if you should chance to stray there in a scrap o’ sunny weather