  ’Twixt Derry and Kerry there ’s many a mile; They ’ve right men in Derry, no doubt; But give me the Kerry man’s blarneying smile, And give me the Kerry girl’s conjuring wile, And lips, like a peach, in a pout! And give me the sails tacking in to Tralee, And the dip of the bluff Dingle bows, And under Beenaman the surge of the sea, The heathery slopes that are haunts for the bee Where Carraghmore raises its brows! From Derry to Kerry the leagues they are long For a foot-weary rover to wend, But I take the far track with a snatch of a song, And a ready forgetting of aught that is wrong, If Kerry ’s the goal at the end! |
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