To paying a tribute to a friend;
But friendship is too light a name
By which to designate the flame
Of holy love that filled his mind—
That which endeared him to mankind.
Skibbereen now mourns his spirit fled,
For Doctor Jerrie Crowley’s dead.
Each hill from Skea to Clashatarbh
Cries out “Ta Doctuir Jerrie marbh.”
How much—how many, I can’t say