Journal 2

The Sliabh Riagh

The first bright of morning sun
Glints rosy on the pinnacle
The rocky ridge of old Sliabh Riagh
Looks down on the Glen people

In days of yore when kings reigned here
The Druids performed a magic spell
The pagan people grasped the faith
When Patrick rang his Christian bell

This fertile hill now forest clad
Strands staunch and solid and comely
It sheltered priest and man and beast
From weather wind and Yoemanry

From craggy top the roads look white
As they wind up and down
From Griston back to Ballinahinch
From Annagurra to Newtown

For centuries now Sliabh Riagh looked down
On our peoples joys and sorrows
He saw the wonders of the first bike,
Now he fears the mighty lorries

They’ll tell you tales of smokey tea
Dark as bog water brown
And footing turf in wartime past
And swirling mists that fast comes down

A mountain stream from it’s side burst forth
It flows fast by Glenbrohane
This nameless river runs cool and clear
To join the Morning Star

And many a time when we were young
Around the rocks we strolled
To feast on whorts and search for caves
On the heathery slopes we rolled

Though customs fade and pubs change hands
Grand houses rise where cabins fall
Where peat and heather were purple and brown
Now thrive the spruce and fir so tall

Author Unknown