Have the faries all departed
And left me broken-hearted,
To mourn the little creatures we loved so long ago?
Ah! most of them have vanished
But there's one that isn't banished
For I met her as I wandered in the Valley of Dunloe.
I had stopped a while to render
In its glory all the splendour
Of the great sun slowly rising, and the morning mists aglow,
And the rocks that rose before me,
And the tree tops bending o'er me,
Standing black against the sunshine that was sweeping down Dunloe.
I put in trees and grasses,
And the summer cloud that passes,
O'er the mountain and its shadow in the valley far below.
But what chalk could tell the story,
The glamour and the glory
When those golden gleams had flooded all the Valley of Dunloe
