Classic Poem

I MET the boy from Donegal, sez I, “Come here a minute,
An' tell me how is Sheskinbeg, an' were ye ever in it?”
Sez he, “I know it well, but sure 'tis awkward gettin' to it,
For there's not a road about the place but the rocks is comin' through it.”

Och well I know the road is rough, but still my heart can love it,
Wi' the river runnin' at its side an' God's blue sky above it;
An' a wheen o' wee white houses sittin' there among the heather,
Wi' childer runnin'in an' out an' playin' all together.

If I could see the sun come up on Cloghaneely highlands,
Or drop at night like fire in the sea behind the islands;
The glow o' red upon the hills, the deep shade in the hollow,
The river slippin' through the bog an' callin' me to follow;

If I could win to Sheskinbeg an' see a turf fire burnin',
An' hear the clack o' Andy's loom and the champ o' Mary's churnin',
An' see the griddle hangin' wi' potato farls upon it,
There's not a road that rough but what my feet could travel on it.

There's hearts as hard as rock itself, there's sorrow can't be spoken,
I'd think a pity o' the man would say his heart was broken;
But every road is rough to me that has no friend to cheer it,
An' not a one will lead me now to Sheskinbeg, or near it.