Fly away, little birds!
Fly away to Spain,
Stay there all the winter
Then come back again;
Come back in the summer
When the leaves are thick;
Little weeny cold birds
Fly away quick.
DUNPHY'S CORNER
Pacing slowly down the road
Black horses go, with load on load
Of Dublin people dead, and they
Will be covered up in clay.
Ere their friends go home, each man
Will shake his head, and drain a can
To Dublin people we will meet
Not again in Grafton Street.
THE DODDER BANK
When no flower is nigh, you might
Spy a weed with deep delight;
So, when far from saints and bliss,
God might give a sin a kiss.