ONE OF THOSE SAD IRISH POEMS, WITH NOTES

From Arranmore the weary miles I've come;
An' all the way I've heard
A Shrawn that's kep' me silent, speechless, dumb,
Not sayin' any word.
An' was it then the Shrawn of Eire, you'll say,
For him that died the death on Carrisbool?
It was not that; nor was it, by the way,
The Sons of Garnim blitherin' their drool;

Nor was it any Crowdie of the Shee,
Or Itt, or Himm, nor wail of Barryhoo
For Barrywhich that stilled the tongue of me.
'Twas but my own heart cryin' out for you,
Magraw! Bulleen, Shinnanigan, Boru,
Aroon, Machree, Aboo!