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| ADIEU to Ballyshannon! where I was bred and born; | |
| Go where I may, I ’ll think of you, as sure as night and morn; | |
| The kindly spot, the friendly town, where every one is known, | |
| And not a face in all the place but partly seems my own. | |
| There ’s not a house or window, there ’s not a field or hill, | 5 |
| But, east or west, in foreign lands, I ’ll recollect them still. | |
| I leave my warm heart with you, though my back I ’m forced to turn,— | |
| So adieu to Ballyshannon, and the winding banks of Erne! | |
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| No more on pleasant evenings we ’ll saunter down the Mall, | |
| Where the trout is rising to the fly, the salmon to the fall, | 10 |
| The boat comes straining on her net, and heavily she creeps, | |
| Cast off, cast off!—she feels the oars, and to her berth she sweeps; | |
| Now stem and stern keep hauling, and gathering up the clew, | |
| Till a silver wave of salmon rolls in among the crew, | |
| Then they may sit, and have their joke, and set their pipes to burn;— | 15 |
| Adieu to Ballyshannon, and the winding banks of Erne! | |
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| The music of the waterfall, the mirror of the tide, | |
| When all the green-hilled harbor is full from side to side— | |
| From Portnasun to Bulliebawns, and round the Abbey Bay, | |
| From the little rocky island to Coolnargit sand-hills gray; | 20 |
| While far upon the southern line, to guard it like a wall, | |
| The Leitrim mountains, clothed in blue, gaze calmly over all, | |
| And watch the ship sail up or down, the red flag at her stern;— | |
| Adieu to these, adieu to all the winding banks of Erne! | |
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| Farewell to you, Kildony lads, and them that pull an oar, | 25 |
| A lug-sail set, or haul a net, from the Point to Mullaghmore; | |
| From Killybegs to Carrigan, with its ocean-mountain steep, | |
| Six hundred yards in air aloft, six hundred in the deep; | |
| From Dooran to the Fairy Bridge, and round by Tullen strand, | |
| Level and long, and white with waves, where gull and curlew stand;— | 30 |
| Head out to sea when on your lee the breakers you discern;— | |
| Adieu to all the billowy coast, and winding banks of Erne! | |
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| Farewell Coolmore,—Bundoran! and your summer crowds that run | |
| From inland homes, to see with joy the Atlantic-setting sun; | |
| To breathe the buoyant salted air, and sport among the waves; | 35 |
| To gather shells on sandy beach, and tempt the gloomy caves; | |
| To watch the flowing, ebbing tide, the boats, the crabs, the fish; | |
| Young men and maids to meet and smile, and form a tender wish; | |
| The sick and old in search of health, for all things have their turn— | |
| And I must quit my native shore, and the winding banks of Erne! * * * * * | 40 |
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