Oh give me the pale blue skies of Wexford.
The pleasant chill on a sunny spring day
When wisps of white cloud scurry over to France
And all is well in St. Helens Bay.
The air is clear and the ozone cleanses
Body and soul of city stress
Bronzed lobster men head out to sea
Bright fishing boats in blue and green.
A sacred corner, an ancient shore
The ruins stand a millennium old
Saint Vogue looked out in daily prayer
God in his mercy returned his stare.
The dog goes racing to the water
Excited, rushing breaking waves
The birds rise wheeling in an arch
Ahead of flying out to sea.
County of welcomes and the friendly wave
Hardworking and honest as the day is long
What did I do to deserve the good fortune
Of walking the lanes of Carne and Broadway?

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