A MOUNTAIN IN TYRONE

When The Summer comes to Ireland and the heather blooms again,

When the mountain top becomes a misty blue,

The scent from bog and sireland brings memories in its train,

And I see again the scenes my boyhood knew.

Aye, memories come a-thronging and I look a-down the years

And recall the many joys that I have known,

And the sorrows, not so many, till my eyes are filled with tears

Longing for a mountain in Tyrone.

‘Twas the Pigeon Top they named it but I couldn’t tell you why

It deserves to have a more romantic name

Since no other mountain shamed it for its nearness to the sky

Or the beauty of its heather’s purple flame.

I have stood upon your summit at the setting of the sun

And pictured you a sentinel, tall and lone –

An everlasting guardian o’er the valley of Drumquin –

Oh, I long for you, my mountain in Tyrone.

From this mountain top of Dressog ‘tis a ne’er forgotten view

When looking towards the hills of Donegal;

You see the peak of Errigal and Muckish in the blue

And feel that you are looking down on all.

The man who loves the mountain has a love that aye shall last;

A pleasure and treasure all his own.

And I, tonight am happy with my memories of the past

Dreaming of a mountain in Tyrone.