The tide it would be turning while
The Leobag would mock--
And that is why it's gaping as
It gaped below the rock.

[Footnote 1: Leobag--The flounder.]




TOBER MHUIRE.

(WELL OF ST MARY.)


'Tis for thee I will be pining,
_Tober Mhuire_.
Thou art deep and sweet and shining,
_Tober Mhuire_.
In the dimness I'll be dying,
And my soul for thee is sighing
With the blessings on thee lying--
_Tober Mhuire_.

O thy cool, sweet waters dripping,
_Tober Mhuire_,
Now my sere lips would be sipping,
_Tober Mhuire_.
O my lips are sere and burning--
For thy waters I'll be yearning,