See what showers of goolden thread
Lift and fall upon her head,
The likes of such a trammel-net at say was never spread;
For, whin accurately reckoned,
’Twas computed that each second
Of her curls has cot a Kerryman and kilt him dead.
Now mintion, if you will,
Brandon Mount and Hungry Hill,
Or Mag’llicuddy’s Reeks, renowned for cripplin’ all they can;
Still the country-side confisses