"The Fairy Lough"
di Moira O'Neill (fl. 1900) [pseudonym]

Lough-a-reem-a! Lough-a-reem-a;
Lies so high among the heather;
A little lough, a dark lough,
The water's black an' deep.
Ould herons go a-fishin' there,
An' seagulls all together
Float roun' the one green island
On the fairy lough asleep,

Lough-a-reem-a! Lough-a-reem-a;
When the sun goes down at seven,
When the hills are dark an' airy,
'Tis a curlew whistles sweet!
Then somethin' rustles all the reeds
That stand so thick an' even;
A little wave runs up the shore
An' flees, as if on feet.

Lough-a-reem-a! Lough-a-reem-a;
Stars come out, an' stars are hidin';
The wather whispers on the stones;
The flittherin' moths are free.
One'st before the mornin' light
The Horsemen will come ridin'
Roun' an' roun' the fairy lough
And no one there to see.