School: Clochar na Toirbhirte, Lios Mór

Lismore, Co. Waterford
An tSr M. Cárthach
The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0636, Page 37

Archival Reference

The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0636, Page 37

Image and data © National Folklore Collection, UCD.

See copyright details.


Open data

Available under Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)

  1. XML School: Clochar na Toirbhirte, Lios Mór
  2. XML Page 37
  3. XML “Lismore”

Note: We will soon deprecate our XML Application Programming Interface and a new, comprehensive JSON API will be made available. Keep an eye on our website for further details.

On this page

  1. Lismore! thou fair, thou hallowed spot.
    What glories once were thine,
    Thou reignest like a queen of old,
    Beside the Irish Rhyne.
    Now thro' thy tinted woodlands fair,
    The Autumn breezes sigh,
    As sorrowing the garb of Spring
    That flourished but to die.
    Thy beauteous valleys winding green,
    'Neath hillsides high, and low,
    What memories fond do they recall
    Of days gone long ago.
    How often have the muses clad,
    In garb of rustic brown,
    Found shelter 'mong thine aged oaks,
    Dear, Dear old sainted Town.
    Those placid water gliding by,
    Reflect a Castle grand,
    Thy feathered songsters sweeter sing,
    Than any in the land.
    (continues on next page)
    Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.
    Eva Forde
    Lismore, Co. Waterford