BALLAD OF O'CAROLAN COUNTRY

The learned men who used the pen, and wrote the praises high,
Must have forgot the beauty spots, that in North Roscommon lie,
Overlooked LaHinde with its wooded banks, and Killrunnan's lovely dell,
And the Keadue mountains, looking down Lassar's holy well.

In bye-gone days the people came in thousands there to pray,
To do a station round the well, or from the grave to take some clay,
But the curse of immigration, its evil work has done,
And our grand old Irish customs are fast fading one by one.

On the hill above the graveyard lies so peaceful to be seen,
The grand old ancient abbey, overgrown with ivy green,
Where blackbird, finch, and linnet, softly sing their serenade,
Round that holy plot, that treasured spot, where O'Carolan's bones are laid.

On the road to Ballyfarnan, as you slowly wend your way,
You pass the house at Elderford, where O'Carolan used to stay,
Where the music of his noble harp once echoed loud and shrill
Round that little town, of high renown, at the foot of Stanton's hill.

As you journey on by Mulloughlas, you can visit Bridget's well
Where pilgrims came in days of yore, historian's can tell.
Where a pattern was held each year, with bands and banners gay,
And thousands came to join the fun, on each St. Patrick's day.

All you strangers who love scenery, come take a tip from me,
Come down to North Roscommon, those lovely sights to see,
You're sure of hospitality if ever you roam that way,
In the town of Ballyfarnan, at the foot of Stanton's Bray.


from

http://bobssongwords.blogspot.com/2009/12/ballad-of-ocarolan-country-learned-men.html