| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Sir Samuel Ferguson. 1810–1886 |
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714. The Fair Hills of Ireland
FROM THE IRISH |
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| A PLENTEOUS place is Ireland for hospitable cheer, | |
| Uileacan dubh O! | |
| Where the wholesome fruit is bursting from the yellow barley ear; | |
| Uileacan dubh O! | |
| There is honey in the trees where her misty vales expand, | 5 |
| And her forest paths in summer are by falling waters fann'd, | |
| There is dew at high noontide there, and springs i' the yellow sand, | |
| On the fair hills of holy Ireland. | |
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| Curl'd he is and ringleted, and plaited to the knee— | |
| Uileacan dubh O! | 10 |
| Each captain who comes sailing across the Irish Sea; | |
| Uileacan dubh O! | |
| And I will make my journey, if life and health but stand, | |
| Unto that pleasant country, that fresh and fragrant strand, | |
| And leave your boasted braveries, your wealth and high command, | 15 |
| For the fair hills of holy Ireland. | |
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| Large and profitable are the stacks upon the ground, | |
| Uileacan dubh O! | |
| The butter and the cream do wondrously abound; | |
| Uileacan dubh O! | 20 |
| The cresses on the water and the sorrels are at hand, | |
| And the cuckoo 's calling daily his note of music bland, | |
| And the bold thrush sings so bravely his song i' the forests grand, | |
| On the fair hills of holy Ireland. | |
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