We met her on the hillside green
Below old Castle Blarney;
Her name, she whispered, was Eileen,
Her home it was Killarney.

I see her yet, her Irish eyes
Blue gray as seas in summer,
And hear her welcome, on this wise,
Vouchsafed to each new-comer:

'I'll guide ye up the stairway steep,
And naught will ye be missing
O' battlement or donjon keep,
Or blarney stone for kissing.

'The tower that was McCarthy's pride,
The scene o' battles thrilling,
And where the Desmond kept his bride-
Me fee is but a shilling.

'Here's for ye, now, a keepsake charm'-
Her low tones grow caressing-
'A bit o' shamrock green and warm,
To bring ye luck and blessing.'

The 'keepsake charm'-I have it yet-
A thing of guile and blarney;
Each green leaf dares me to forget
Fair Eileen o' Killarney.