Thomas Campbell

On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh,
No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I;
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On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh,
No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I;
No harp like my own could so cheerily play,
And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.

His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest.

His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest.

'Twas sung, how they were lovely in their lives,
And in their deaths had not divided been.

'Twas sung, how they were lovely in their lives,
And in their deaths had not divided been.

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

But, said as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.

But, said as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.