O'CONNELL BRIDGE

In Dublin town the people see Gorgeous clouds sail gorgeously, They are finer, I declare, Than the clouds of anywhere.

A swirl of blue and red and green, A stream of blinding gold, a sheen From silver hill and pearly ridge Comes each evening on the bridge.

So when you walk in a field, look down, Lest you tramp on a daisy's crown, But in a city look always high And watch the beautiful clouds go by.