THE OULD ROAD FROM OMAGH TO DROMORE

I am going back to Ireland to 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 for home.

Sure I’ don't 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.

Sure 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, with her 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”.

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

With a glimpse of happy days that are before,

Though my feet are growing weary, in my heart I’ll lilt a song

On the ould road from Omagh to Dromore.

There’s a wee whitewashed cottage 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 sitting there.

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So, 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.