The Maigue Through Banogue
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There's a place in my memory, that I hold so dear,
It was there I was born, in the spring of the year,
When the violets were blooming, so long, long ago,
Along the banks of the Maigue, as it flows through Banogue.
When I think of my boyhood, those great days gone by,
And those youthful companions, there's a tear in my eye,
When we roamed through the meadows, when a-fishing we'd go,
On the banks of the Maigue, as it flows through Banogue.
Sure we'd ramble through Belview, likewise Inchinclare,
Where we'd hunt the day long, without worry or care,
On those soft summer twilights, as homewards we'd go,
To the bridge in Rostemple, o'er the Maigue through Banogue.
Then North to Glenbeven, and old Cherrygrove,
Mid the oak and ash, and the elm we'd rove,
Then stand by the weir, where the strong currents flow.
And watch the fish leap, o'er the Maigue through Banogue.
No more they'll return, those great days of yore,
For my friends are now scattered, and some are no more,
But those days in my memory, I will never let go,
And my own happy youth, by the Maigue through Banogue.