No. 7. NUMEROUS CELTS

There’s a grey wind wails on the clover And grey hills, and mist around the hills, And a far voice sighing a song that is over And my grey heart that a strange longing fills. A sheen of dead swords that shake upon the wind, And a harp that sleeps though the wind is blowing Over the hills and the seas and the great hills behind, The great hills of Kerry, where my heart would be going. For I would be in Kerry now where quiet is the grass, And the birds are crying in the low light, And over the stone hedges the shadows pass, And a fiddle weeps at the shadow of the night. With Pat Doogan Father Murphy Brown maidens King Cuchullain The Kine The Sheep Some old women Some old men And Uncle White Sea-gull and all. (Chorus) And Uncle White Sea-gull and all.