Lisbawn Slopes

 I wish that I was back again beside the mountains steep

listening to the gushing streams, the lambs and bleating sheep
 to see again the grey mist steal over the bogs and fields

and the skylarks gleeful twitter like silver trumpet peels

 The aurora of the heather the heath and woodbine too
 Of new mown hay in Meadows that now has changed its hue
 Of seaweed on the seashore the perfume of wildflowers
All struan in profusion and the peaceful summer colours

 This vivid dream I long have had I wish it would come true
 for I was born mid Kerrys hills with Patriots I knew
 They died to vent the shackles that bind our native land
 before the throne of heaven now they stand at God's right hand

Patrick Joseph Griffin, Lisbawn