DROMONA

Dear freens, I lift my pen again
Tae tel’ ye in a musin’ strain
Aboot this place, second tae nane-
Dromona.

It lies north-wurds oor famous toon,
Cullybackey, which wears the croon;
But ye’ll no bate, search Ulster roon-
Dromona.

Its wild romantic hills an’ dales,
Which whisper monie ancient tales
O’ struggles’ tween the Celts an’ Pales-
Dromona.

But calm an’ serene beneath the shade
O’ stately trees sweet peace is made;
The warrior’s spear is noo a spade-
Dromona.

The great bleachin’ an’ dyein’ green,
If I may use a little “preen”
It’s equal, niver yit hath been-
Dromona.

The river Maine flows at its feet,
The “iron stick-brig” there sae neat,
An’ railway sidin’ mak’s complete-
Dromona.

Seein’ its people mak’s the place,
I pray o’ ye wae muckle grace
Tae luck these guid folk in the face,
Dromona.

Mr. Robinson, find business man,
Taen this wee beetle place in han’
An’ made it whut it is, just gran’-
Dromona.

But since the “Limited” hath ta’en
An’ wed it tae the famous “Maine,”
Na either firm noo stan’s abain-
Dromona.

The heid director, Mr. Young,
Wha’s praises cud nae half be sung,
Though naethin’ else employed each tongue-
Dromona.

Mr Millar manages al’,
An tak’ my wurd, he is nae gra’l,
While he is there nae far o’ fal’
Dromona.

Mr Horton lucks weel tae shade,
An’ fit noo tae supply the trade
Wae ony colour iver made-
Dromona.

The fill an’ finish is seen tae
By Mr Hunter, an’ this I’ll say,
They’re dense as nicht an’ clear as day-
Dromona.

But ere I cross the rustic stile
I’ll mention the guid rank an’ file,
Which class hae aye my sweetest smile-
Dromona.

Wha’s men ir brave an’ wemen fair,
I trust in nixt wurl they’ll be there,
An in this yin get their fu’ share-
Dromona.

Adam Lynn 24th March 1913