Where nothing ever grew before.
And it will sprout so fine and brave,
That lovely birds with yellow bills
Will come to peck my crowded corn
From all the Seven Holy Hills.
THE BAIT-DIGGER'S SON
Aye, there's many a man does be drownded,
An' carried a middling way:
But never the like o' me brother
Was floated from Dublin to Bray.