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42 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF
Round the Abbey, Moy, and Knather—I wish no one
any hurt; The Main Street, Back Street, College Lane, the Mall,
and Portnasun, If any foes of mine are there, I pardon every one. I hope that man and womankind will do the same by
me; For my heart is sore and heavy at voyaging the sea. My loving friends I'll bear in mind, and often fondly
turn To think of Belashanny, and the winding banks of
Erne.
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If ever I'm a money'd man, I mean, please God, to
cast My golden anchor in the place where youthful years
were pass'd; Though heads that now are black and brown must
meanwhile gather gray, New faces rise by every hearth, and old ones drop
away — Yet dearer still that Irish hill than all the world
beside; It's home, sweet home, where'er I roam, through
lands and waters wide. And if the Lord allows me, I surely will return To my native Belashanny, and the. winding banks of
Erne. |
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