Sheila Nee Iyer
Source: The Stone Fiddle by Paddy Tunney
Location: New Edition, page 131
It was by the banks of a clear flowing strame,
That first I accosted that comely young dame,
And in great confusion I did ask her name:
“Are you Flora, or Aurora or the famed Queen of Tyre?”
She answered: “I’m neither, I’m Sheila Nee Iyre.”
“Go rhyming rogue, let my flocks roam in peace
You won’t find amongst them the famed Golden Fleece.
The tresses of Helen, that goddess of Greece,
Have hanked round your heart like a doll of desire
Be off to your spéirbhean,” said Sheila Nee Iyer.
“May the suffering of Sisyphus fall to my share,
And may I the torments of Tantalus bear.
To the dark land of Hades my soul fall an heir,
Without linnet in song or a note on the Iyre,
If ever I prove false to you, Sheila Nee Iyre.
“O had I the wealth of the Orient Store,
All the gens of Peru or the Mexican ore,
Or the hands of a Midas to mould o’er and o’er,
Bright bracelets of gold and of flaming sapphire,
I would robe you in splendour my Sheila Nee Iyre.”