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GREEN GLENS OF ANTRIM |
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Really is a beautiful song..... Turn your volume up!!
Far across yonder blue lies a true fairy land,
With the sea rippling over the shingle and sand.
Where the gay honeysuckle is luring the bee,
And the green glens of Antrim are calling to me.
Sure if only you knew how the lamp of the moon
Turns a blue Irish bay to a silver lagoon.
You'd imagine a picture of Heav'n it could be,
Where the green glens of Antrim are calling to me.
Soon I hope to return to my own Cushendall,
'Tis the one place for me that can outshine them all.
Sure I know every stone , I recall every tree,
Where the green glens of Antrim are calling to me.
I would halt at a cabin close down by the shore,
And I'll knock with my heart at that wee cabin door.
While the sun showered gold in the lap of the sea,
And the green glens of Antrim were smiling to me.
'Tis alone my concern if the grandest surprise,
Would be shinning at me out of somebody's eyes.
'Tis my private affair what my feelings would be,
While the green glens of Antrim were welcoming me.
But I'd be where the people are gentle and kind,
And among them, the one who's been aye in my mind.
Sure I'd pray that the world would in peace let me be,
Where the green glens of Antrim are heaven to me.
Written by Kenneth North
A Nice wee poem .....
Somewhere in Erin a glen lies sleeping,
Smiling in sunshine, smiling thro' rain,
And even in dreams, sure, its beauty woos me,
Calling me back to its lush again!
Far from bustle and noise of cities,
Far from the world o' busy men,
Peace I'd find in its misty hollows,-
Peace and love in that Irish Glen.
Why did I ever cross the ocean?
(Och! but the strangers land is cold!)
Give me the boreens and white walled cabins;
Dearer far than the heaped-up gold!
Scent of heather, and moorland breezes,
Sure, the are calling me night and day,
To the shamrock sod, and the scenes of boyhood,
To an Irish glen where fairies play.
Soon, please god, I'll be home returning
Over that lonesome, watery track,
And joy there'll be in an Irish homestead,
And many's the kindly "Welcome back"
To the quiet ways and the cheery neighbors,
( Och! but the lark will sing sweetly then!)
When I leave the cares and the fret behind me,
To roam no more from my Irish Glen.
Written By Brigid Kennedy.
