Drucht On Shamrocks Galore

The beautiful countryside of Ireland.

On the shores of Ireland fleecy clouds, 
Wend onto the old clachans and dapple,
When a rainfall laps winsome blooms, 
Billowin' into deep puddle after puddle.

Darken'd by the weary clouds quickly into, 
A blustery wind of the mighty pourin' rain,
Bespatterin' a whole slue of drops forthwith, 
On the till'd ground beside the brerd bain.

Softenin' rugg'd drums and wide swards, 
That lie in a ruffle of the bustlin' lowlands,
Awashin' the peat bogs and sundry derries, 
In the depth of nearby dampish wetlands.

Drawkin' a ring of carricks and bluffs, 
And reachin' a stillness of the gurteens,
As the wutherin' storm thereafter balks, 
And dwines within the old miry boreens.

The lovesome gorses and the buttercups, 
Wizenin' as the stems harden'd in a gale,
With the comin' of a cold winter loomin', 
Beyond the stime of the wonderful dale.

Where the red fox and the red deer roam, 
The lee of limestone by the cairns ashore,
As coleens dander by a brook flowing freely, 
Abreast the drucht on shamrocks galore.