KILCREEN TO CULLYBACKEY

I think upon the splendour
So often I have seen;
Of the lovely nooks and valleys
On the road down from Kilcreen.

From that to Cullybackey,
On a pleasant summer day,
I’ve seen the ivy clinging wild,
When passing on that way.

The lark would sing so sweetly
As it soared up to the skies,
While trout jumped nimbly in the Maine
To catch the incautious flies.

I have walked there in the morning,
When the sun peeped out his head,
I have trod it o’er when weary souls
Were fast asleep in bed.

And to me ‘twas special pleasure
To pass along that way,
When flax and corn were blooming,
And farmers made their hay.

Sometimes I’d say I’d like to sit
Beneath the shady trees,
To hear the murmur of the streams
And the humming of the bees
.
When I was in Dunminning,
I was always near my home;
But now I’ve crossed the ocean,
And far from it I roam.

And when I think upon the spot,
My heart within grows warm
I think I hear the busy bees
Buzzing in a swarm.

Methinks I see each garden bloom,
With plots of blossoms fair;
I wish now that I was but near
The flowers that flourish there.

The “stick brig” is a famous spot,
Where I have oft-times been,
Down by the beetling engines
There at Dromona Green.

As to the scenes of Hillmount,
I’m them afraid to name,
Because words fail to well describe
Their beauty and their fame.

They’re delightful and enchanting
Along Maine Water’s side,
Near which the old wall, ivy-clad,
Is known both far and wide.

Stray down to Cullybackey,
You’ll see a glorious sight
Its bleaching and its finishing
Works will you delight.

But if I’m spared my health and strength
I’ll visit it again,
And once more cast my line into
The graceful flowing Maine

FROSSESITE, Springburn, Glasgow, 4th May 1907