Kate o' Killarney

The flower of Ould Ireland is Kate o' Killarney
So now ye half daft men ge's no more o' your blarney
Than the thistle and rose the shamrocks more green
Sweet Kate o' Killarney's the Irishmans queen
So tight Irish boys o' the smoke and the still
Drink the Irishmans Queen in another bright gill
What man o' the Shamrock what man o' the blarney
Drinks whiskey and knows not the Maid o' Killarney?


Oh Island o' green & sweet land o the praters
Wi your Catholic Priests & Eves sweet pretty craturs
I love you together like bees may you hive
And wish ye like bees in your Island may thrive
Your daughters are fair as their grandmother Eve
As lovely — as tempting — as fain to deceive
If you set me like Adam to fall by your sin
By the priest o' St Patrick I'm sure I should win.


I'm not up to beading my prayers upon pearl
But I long for a kiss fro' my sweet Irish girl
Such a kiss that the parson himself could not blame
Nor find for the sin if it is so? a name
So heres to the shamrock and also the thistle
And the rose for an advocate never shall whistle
Put all three together & the pride o' Killarney
Is the Irishmans queen and her name is Kate Kearney.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.