Here are a song and a poem I found about Lough Neagh:

The Emigrant's Farewell

Fare ye well my native green clad hills
Fare ye well my shamrock plain
Ye verdant banks of sweet Lough Neagh
And ye silvery winding streams
Though far from my home in green Tyrone
My Flora first I strayed
I adore you Killcolpy
Where I spent my boyhood days.

Shall I ever see the grand old plains
Where in boyhood days I roved
Or wander through those grand old woods
With the girl I dearly loved
Shall I ever more by Lough Neagh's shore
E're pass the summer day.
Or hear again the larks sweet strain
Or hear the blackbirds pysomes play.

Shall I ever rove by Belmonts grove
Or Cranan's lofty hills
Or hear again the fairy tale
Of the rath behind the mill
Will the nightingale that charms the vale
By me be heard no more
As I watched at eve the wild drake leave
For the bogs of sweet Dromore.

Shall my oars e're rest on your wild wave crest
Or again see the salmon play
While sailing o'er from Tyrone's green shore
Bound for Antrim Bay
Or an autumn gale e're fill my sail
With a dim declining moon
See me tempest toss on the shores of Doss
Or the raging Bay of Toome.

Shall I ne'er behold Shane's Castle bold
Or gaze on Mazzereene
Shall my cot e're land on the banks of Bann
Coney Island or Roskeen.
Shall I ever stray by the Washingbay
The weary trout to coy
Or set my line on an evening fine
Round the shores of green Mountjoy.

All for you Ardboe my tears do flow
When I think and call to mind
My parents dear and friends sincere
And comrades true and kind
But I hope to graze on your flowery braes
E're seven long years come round
And hands to clasp in friendships grasp
Of those I left behind.

My friends out here in America
Have all that there hearts desire
My pockets filled with dollar bills
I am dressed in the grand attire
I would give it all for one country ball
At home by the old hearth stone
In a cabin near Lough Neagh so dear
In my own dear native home.

Now hence, also long years have passed
And I'll toast that beautiful isle,
That soon and long o'er that land of song
A star of peace may smile
May plenty bloom from the Bann to Toome
And the shamrock verdant grow
Green o'er my grave by Lough Neagh's wave
Near the Old Cross of Ardboe.

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THE LILY OF LOUGH NEAGH
by Moses Teggart, Poet of the Boglands
Springfield Mass. Oct. 1898

Do I remember Daisy Tennyson?
Well! To be sure, I do!
Her hair was black as the clouds of night,
Her eyes as heaven blue.
Her sweet face was the envy
Of all the Milltown girls,
And when she laughed - then, you could see
Her mouth was full of pearls.
A dear light-hearted Daisy
In kirtle green and gray;
The colleen they were wont to call
The Lily of Lough Neagh.

Her dad in Californy
Had dug so hard for gold,
When he came home he had as much
As Daisy's lap would hold.
Rich enough for a princess,
She might have wed an Earl,
But Daisy loved a fish-lad,
And he adored the girl.
On Lough neagh's banks at sunset
Oft would these lovers stray -
Soft kisses were the dews that fed
The Lily of Lough Neagh.

No useless shoes or stockings
Would lovely Daisy wear,
Her feet were white as buttermilk,
Her shapely ankles bare.
Her namesakes in the dewy grass
And on the rampers brown,
Outdone by Daisy's soft white feet,
Their rosy heads hung down.
But like herself in snowy white -
On Daisy's weddin' day
They bloomed and blushed wherever went
The Lily of Lough Neagh.

Do I remember Daisy Tennyson?
Indeed, indeed I do!
Her hair was black as the clouds of night,
Her eyes as heaven blue.
A daughter of Hibernia,
Sweet lass! I see her still, -
No purtier colleen ever walked
The wilds of Columbkill.
If in them parts you ever meet
A grand old man and gray,
Just ask him if he ever knew
The Lily of Lough Neagh