THE BOATMAN OF KINSALE.

His kiss is sweet, his word is kind, His love is rich to me; I could not in a palace find A truer heart than he. The eagle shelters not his nest From hurricane and hail, More bravely than he guards my breast — The Boatman of Kinsale.

The wind that round the Fastnet sweeps Is not a whit more pure — The goat that down Cnoc Sheehy leaps Has not a foot more sure. No firmer hand nor freer eye E'er faced an autumn gale — De Courcy's heart is not so high — The Boatman of Kinsale.

The brawling squires may heed him not, The dainty stranger sneer — But who will dare to hurt our cot When Myles O'Hea is here? The scarlet soldiers pass along; They'd like, but fear to rail; His blood is hot, his blow is strong — The Boatman of Kinsale.

His hooker's in the Scilly van When seines are in the foam; But money never made the man, Nor wealth a happy home. So, blest with love and liberty, While he can trim a sail, He'll trust in God, and cling to me — The Boatman of Kinsale.