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