THE OULD ROAD FROM OMAGH TO DROMORE

I am going back to Ireland and the County of Tyrone,

                To the spot from where misfortune made me roam.

In this city of thousands I am lonely and alone,

                So hurrah, boys, for Ireland and home.

Sure I’ll never mind the journey, though the road be rough and long

                If tomorrow I can see the Irish shore,

And the day beyond tomorrow I’ll be marching with a song

                On the ould road from Omagh to Dromore.

Don’t I know every turning of the road I love so well,

                Every landmark on my mind is graven still.

With my face turned to Granan and my back to Bressie Bell

                I’ll be halfway to home at Allen’s Mill.

Though I’m weary of the journey and there’s blisters on my feet,

It's soon I’ll be forgetting they were sore

When I hear the cheery welcome from the people that I meet

                On the ould road from Omagh to Dromore

When I reach Clanabogan, of the shadows long and cool

                I will sit me down and rest an hour there

While the small voice of reason whispers, “Boy, you were a fool,

                To ever leave a country half so fair”.

Then forgetting all my worries and the city’s noise and throng

                With a glimpse of happy days that are before,

Though my footsteps may be heavy in my heart I’ll lilt a song

                On the ould road from Omagh to Dromore.

There’s a wee whitewashed cottage just a mile outside Dromore,

                In the corner there is still a vacant chair,

And for years I’ve been dreaming of the welcome that’s in store

                From the little grey-haired lady waiting there

Yes, I’m going back to Mother, and no more I mean to room

                I will tell her that my roving days are o’er

And I know she’ll give her blessing to the road that brought me home

                It's the ould road from Omagh to Dromore.