“From the green hills of Kerry so merry, my eagle took wing, With talents most rare, in Clare he began for to sing; The people admired and delighted in his charming air, And soon they elected him in as a member for Clare. “Then straight off to London my eagle took flight o’er the main, His voice reached America, all over Europe and Spain; The black-feathered tribe, they thought for to bribe his sweet notes, But he would not sing to the tune of their infernal oaths. … “Then back to Graniawail he set sail like a cloud through a smoke, And told her that one of her long galling fetters was broke; For the Emancipation the nation stood up to a man, And my eagle in triumph united the whole Irish land. “There was at that time a pert little bird called d’Esterre, Who challenged my eagle to fight on the plains of Kildare; But my eagle that morning, for Ireland he showed a true pluck, For a full ounce of lead in the belly of d’Esterre he had stuck. … “And now to conclude: may his soul rest in heaven, I pray, His motto was peace, his country he ne’er did betray; The whole world I’m sure, can never produce such a man, Let us all rest in peace, and forever remember brave Dan.” Oh, yes; I have love-songs, too, with big rocky words of English in them, such as the song of the Colleen Fhune, of which this is a verse: “One morning early for recreation, As I perigrinated by a river-side, Whose verdant verges were decorated With bloom, by nature diversified; A charming creature I espied convenient, She sadly playing a melodious tune; She far transcended the goddess Venus, And her appellation was the Colleen Fhune.” The song that all the boys and girls in the house had, was the song of “The Battle of Ross.” It was composed by John Collins, of Myross, a man of some fame as a Gaelic scholar and poet, who wrote the Gaelic poem on Timoleague Abbey. “The Battle of Ross” was fought about the year 1800. I suppose it was no regular battle, but the little boys at our side of the house used to celebrate the victory of it every July 12, and march through the lanes and streets, with twigs and rods as guns, upon their shoulders.