Fiolar this is THE FOUR FARRELLEYS by Percy French, I have it alright but it does go on and on, and it is also very good.

Get in touch with me and I will send it on. I will give you the last verse,

WEST

Or were you the Francis Farrelly I met so long ago,
In the bog below Belmullet in the County of Mayo,
The long-legged, freckled Francis with the deep set wistful eyes,
That seemed to take their colour from those ever-changing skies,
That put his flute together as I sketched the distant scene,
And played me "Planxty Kelly" and "The Wakes of Inniskeen".
That told me in the autumn he'd be sailing to the west
To try and make his fortune and send money to the rest
And would I draw a picture of the place where he was born,
And he'd hang it up and look at it, and not feel so forlorn,
And when I had it finished, you got up from where you sat,
And you said "you're the devil, and I can't say more than that",
Oh! if your that Francis Farrelly, your fortune may be small,
But I'm thinking--thinking--Francis that I love you best of all,
And I never can forget you--though it's years and years ago--
In the bog below Belmullet in the County of Mayo.

Ard Mhacha