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.