Push for PORTER

In flowery July upon Wicklow's proud heights
As the plover sprung from the morass
And southward the cuckoo was taking his flight
And the corncrake lay deep in the grass
The swallow and swift were aloft in the air
And the curlew was feeding her young
The milkmaid was tending her cattle with care
And the haymakers cheerfully sung

The maidens of Dublin in satin or silk
Are pretty I freely confess
But give me the maid who is neatly arrayed
In a beautiful calico dress

You may praise the Italian ladies in vain
Or the maidens of France or Peru
Or worship the languishing beauties of Spain
And the blushing Caucasians too
But she whom I love has an eye like a sloe
And her cheeks are like roses in bloom
So graceful each step as she trips like a doe
And her ruby red lips are in tune

Should fortune or friendship compel me to roam
Or a thirst after changes constrain
I'd still call the hills of old Wicklow my home
And I'd sing of their beauty again
Sweet garlands of roses or art's cultured bowers
May delight a poor soul to possess
But give me old Wicklow bedecked with wild flowers
And the maid in the calico dress