Sung to the air of "The Bold Tady Quill"
In the west of Cork County sequested and lonely
There lies a meek, holy and beautiful lake
Where nothing can rival with a surface so lovely
As the breeze that comes down from that mountain so bleak.
Descending quite rapidly those sparkling white fountains
To swell its blue waters, majestic and calm.
Surrounded by lofty precipitous mountains
There lies the blessed island of lonely Gougane.
Now fair Inchigeela in scenes they are splendid
With beautiful valleys, long head lands and breaks
And among their bright scenes we are surely out numbered
By breakwater lilies that survive in the lake.
Fair Ballingeary is famed in proportion
That beautiful village with its well shaven lawns
Yet nothing sublime can excite your emotions
Until you are approaching sweet lonely Gougane.
By Ceims lovely pass the rocks do assemble
I'm sure they would fill the spectator with awe
Fearing each moment that downward they'll tumble
And give the spectator no time to withdraw.
But the cliffs are so steep that the deer stands in danger
It being the retreat of the Ro-buck and fawn
Themselves so sublime for in awaiting the stranger
To come to the place they call lonely Gougane.
Now this beautiful island was once deeply planted
The trees are now moulding unto decay,
Where really its focus is a place of enchantment
Where many a poor pilgrim so often did pray.
The days of Finbarr, the saint so distinguished
Prove worthy treasures retired and withdrawn
It's cells are still seen in the ruins of the abbey
That lies in that island of lonely Gougane.
Not I to be gifted like Homer the Grecian
Or had I the genius of famed Callinan
A son so rightful, sublime and superior
In praising the regions of lonely Gougane.