I found this text in The Byrnes and the O'Byrnes, Vol 2 By Daniel Byrne-Rothwell (Isle of Colonsay, Argyll: House of Lochar, 2010), page 382, where it is attributed to Christopher O'Byrne (1862-1950).

I wouldn't put 100% faith in either the text or the attribution. I had to correct a few misspellings and obvious typos such as "o'ver" for "o'er."


THE SKIES O'ER BALLYROAN

I love the sunny shores of France,
I love the Italian clime,
Where beauty beams o'er fields and streams,
And nature reigns sublime.
I love the Alps and 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 beamed upon
A sweeter little town;
The purling rill that drives the mill,
Through hazel shades runs down,
The motte* high-crowned with noble trees,
Its origin unknown,
Its silver grace illumes the place
For miles round Ballyroan.

The chapel spire high over all
Points to the crystal sky;
The vesper chimes proclaim the time
When evening worship's nigh.
As home the weary workman hikes—
His hour of toil now flown—
With songs and cheer and Scully's beer
Enlivens Ballyroan.

Oh, Ballyroan, my native home,
Why grieve my Irish heart,
Within my breast with you oppressed
I'll act a brave man's part.
But should I die for Ireland's cause,
Like Emmet or Wolfe Tone,
My last long sigh to Heaven on high
Will be for Ballyroan.

[* I agree that "motte" makes more sense than "moat," but "moat" is what I found. By the way, Wikipedia confirms that Ballyroan has a motte.]