Classic Poem

Carrickmacarth for raking,
Where the good old tales are told!
Greenans for merrymaking
And nobody growing old!
And putting it all together,
If you are the boy for fun,
Minding not wind and weather,
Foot it to Carrigdun!

Now stop on the way a minute
By the marches of Drimagool —
It's land and the cattle in it,
Its mountains white with wool!
And further, by hill and hollow,
Where the burns of white trout run —
Ah! that is the road to follow,
That takes you to Carrigdun!

When I was supple and hearty,
Fifty years gone by —
Carrickmacarth for a party,
Greenans when blood ran high!
Now, taking the world as you find it,
Say where would the light feet run?
To a hedge and a girl in behind it!
Ah, young blood and Carrigdun!