I love the sunny shores of France I love the Italian skies Where beauty beams o'er fields and streams And nature reigns sublime I love the Alps, the winding Rhine The classic Po and Rhone But ten times more do I adore The skies o'er Ballyroan
The golden sun ne'er shone upon A sweeter little town The purling rill that runs the mill Through hazel shades runs down The moat (motte), high crowned with noble trees Its origins unknown Its silver grays illumes the place For miles round Ballyroan
The chapel spire high over all Points to the crystal sky The vesper's chimes proclaim the time When evening worships night And home the hearty workman hikes His hour of toil now flown With songs of cheer and Scully's beer Enlivens Ballyroan
Oh, Bally Roan, me native home With grief my heart is sore Within my breastand you oppressed I'd act the hero's part If I should fall for Ireland's cause Like Emmett and Wolfe Tone Then my last sigh to God on high Would be for Ballyroan
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Copy to Clipboard: I love the sunny shores of France I love the Italian skies Where beauty beams o'er fields and streams And nature reigns sublime I love the Alps, the winding Rhine The classic Po and Rhone But ten times more do I adore The skies o'er Ballyroan
The golden sun ne'er shone upon A sweeter little town The purling rill that runs the mill Through hazel shades runs down The moat (motte), high crowned with noble trees Its origins unknown Its silver grays illumes the place For miles round Ballyroan
The chapel spire high over all Points to the crystal sky The vesper's chimes proclaim the time When evening worships night And home the hearty workman hikes His hour of toil now flown With songs of cheer and Scully's beer Enlivens Ballyroan
Oh, Bally Roan, me native home With grief my heart is sore Within my breastand you oppressed I'd act the hero's part If I should fall for Ireland's cause Like Emmett and Wolfe Tone Then my last sigh to God on high Would be for Ballyroan
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