The Fair Hills of Ireland

And I will make my journey, if life and health but stand,

Unto that pleasant country, that fresh and fragrant strand,

And leave your boasted braveries, your wealth and high

command,

For the fair hills of holy Ireland.

Large and profitable are the stacks upon the ground,

Uileacan dubh O!

The butter and the cream do wondrously abound;

Uileacan dubh O!

The cresses on the water and the sorrels are at hand,

And the cuckoo’s calling daily his note of music bland,

And the bold thrush sings so bravely his song i’ the forests

grand,

On the fair hills of holy Ireland.