Dear, Ballyvourney
Located deep in the Muskerry Gaeltacht
The old village of Ballyvourney
Seen from atop Mullaghanish
One better not leave prematurely
Walking through Ballymakeera
I see the Holy Well draw near
Down here in green Ballyvourney
Where Gobnait found nine white deer
I look over the bridge
Gliding to me
Is a gentle black swan
Not an unusual sight
On the River Sullane
The mist drifts above the roadway
At the gates of the graveyard
Old relatives, re-acquainted
Memories no longer jarred
In the fields, on the outskirts of Coolea
The cutting of turf can be seen
Yet as the day moves to nightfall
Hear songs of Poitín
Again, I emerge from the hillside
And turn off at Slivereagh Cross
Then take the path north to Millstreet
Too much time on the doss
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