THE RIVER MAINE

THE RIVER MAINE

Slowly out fare ‘man the mountains
Starts a stream as bright as day,
And it plays amang the pebbles
Moving down to broad Lough Neagh.

Mony years I’ve spent down by it,
Mony years along the Maine,
And whenever I am fare it,
How my heart wants back again.

Fresh it comes, a sparkling river,
By the town of sweet Dunloy,
Where the farmers’ sheep and cattle
Its cool waters do enjoy.

But it rests among the mosses
Ere it leaves Dunminning’s plain,
Soon to move the wheels and beetles,
Down the banks of its domain.

First its fortune tries with favours
Lent to Mr. McIlroy,
At Dunoine, where nature smileth
On the hands he does employ.

This it opens out in grandeur,
As it chatters on with glee
Through Dunminning and Dromona
Both so beautiful to me.

Next it curves wi’ mony graces,
As it loves Hillmount to reach,
Where the Frasers and the Haughtons
And made famous by their bleach.

Ere we listen to the rumble of the wheels at Harperstown,
May we hope to see our waters
Bridged at Broughdone very soon
(Or for commerce by Broughdone.)

Soon it gleams among the bushes
As it shoots the carry by,
On its way to Cullybackey,
Known for finish and for dye.

But one loves to walk at Low Park
Where it holds its beauty fast,
At Fenaghy’s greens and woodlands
You can find rare scenes unclassed.

But at last it lends its power
Full at Lisnafillan Mill;
And it sings its mystic music
‘Tween the Castle and Gracehill.

Then it meets a dear old sister
Whom it joins with loving han’
And they flow on Braid together,
Soon to join the Lough and Bann.

Sure our God has blessed this river,
Far aboon the rivers a’,
As it brings baith breid and blessing
To the great an’ to the sma’.

So let us praise our loving God,
Who this useful river planned,
While He holds the mighty waters
In the hollow of His hand.

W. McCloy 15th February 1913

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