  We made Donegal in the teeth of gray weather, We made Donegal with the wind blowing free, And the spindrift at toss like a snowy gull’s feather Where the highlands lean down to the lips of the sea. We left Donegal in the azure blue weather, We left Donegal with a soft breeze a-lee, With bees in the broom and the sun on the heather, And scarcely a ripple astir on the sea. But give me to come in the teeth of gray weather, Oh, give me to come with the wind blowing free, And love’s arms to clasp in their welcoming tether A wanderer worn with the toils of the sea! For ’t is sorrow to go in the azure blue weather, ’T is sorrow to go with a soft breeze a-lee, Watching dear Donegal sinking down in the sea! |
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