And all her ghosts that walk
And all that hide behind
Her Georgian facades -
The catcalls and the pain,
The glamour of her squalor,
The bravado of her talk.
The lights jig in the river
With a concertina movement
And the sun comes up in the morning
Like barley-sugar on the water
And the mist on the Wicklow hills
Is close, as close
As the peasantry were to the landlord,
As the Irish to the Anglo-Irish,
As the killer is close one moment
To the man he kills,
Traditionally, Irish peasants lived on the estates of their wealthy landlords ( rawn mostly from the Protestant and Anglo-Irish Ascendancy class). 
 Despite this proximity, the relationship was charged with conflict, which came to a head after the Great Famine (1845-1852), during which the landlord class was perceived to have looked on while their tenants starved.
Dublin