Viewing page 107 of 121

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

[[blank page]]
[[end page]]
[[start page]]
The people I know are poor but happy
Their tempers are short but their patience long
Their eyes light up and their feet get tappy
When they hear the strains of a [[strikethrough]]highland[[/strikethrough]] lilting song.

The magic touch of our blessed blarney
Has won us fame to the ends of the earth
From the lakes and fens of old Kilarney
To the last least land With the smallest worth.
[[end page]]