If it's not "Kilkelly" then try "Patrick Sheehan" in the database. Here's another one which is a bit poignant.

SWEET INISHCARA

I have rambled in exile mid cruel hearted strangers,
Far from my home and the beautiful Lee,
I have struggled alone through all hardship and danger,
And braved every fate on the land and the sea.
From Columbia's wild forests to India's spiced bowers,
On the great foreign rivers whose sands are of gold,
I have sighed for thee still mid the birds and the flowers
I love you and will till my heart does grow cold.

I roved with fair maidens with dark flowing tresses
And beautiful eyes have looked kindly on me,
But I thought with regret of the smiles and caresses
Of that fair haired young maiden that dwelt by the Lee.
And now I've returned but she's not in her bower,
Where the river flows past with its small tiny waves,
I have called her in vain, for the ivory crowned tower
Of sweet Inishcara o'ershadows her grave.

The home of my childhood to ruin it is falling,
And the loved ones that blessed it will greet me no more,
But I look on it still, joyous visions recalling,
Though the tall grass has grown on the step of the door.
I would rest with thee soon with the shamrock above me,
From my own native Cork no more shall I roam,
Till I'm laid in the grave with the dear ones that love me,
As in death they will welcome their wanderer home.

This song has particular memories for me. My father was born in Inniscara (the spelling varies) and I spent many happy hours on the banks of the Lee with my cousins.