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| My Home in Fermoy |
There's a spot far away o'er the wide spreading ocean, A spot which my fond heart will never forget; For memories cling round it so pure and so tender That even it's name brings a throb of regret. Regret for the long vanished days of my childhood, When earth was all gladness and life knew but joy; Oh! Could I recall them - those bright golden hours, I spent long ago in my home in Fermoy. There, grand old Blackwater sweeps down through the meadows, Passing silently, swiftly by green Castlehyde; Sliding on neath the Ivy-clad Bridge o'er its bosom, Where peaceful and fair stands the Town at its side. And only in dreams can I hear the sweet pealing of Bells from the hills with their cadence of joy, Ringing mellow and clear at the Angelus hour. Round the Mountains and Woodlands of dear old Fermoy. And only in dreams can I gaze on tall Corrin, That frowns tall and grim on the Town at its feet, How oft have I rambled far up to its summit And gathered green shamrock from the meadows beneath. Oh! Memory, your chain binds my heart to old Erin, With links time or absence can never destroy, They comfort and brighten my life's dreary pathway And oft take me back to my home in Fermoy. They remind me again of the still summer evenings, When I stood on the bridge spanning Funcheon's dark stream, And watched the sun set o'er the distant blue mountain, And gazed through the trees on the silver moonbeam. Then friends, happy friends, true hearted were near me, To soothe every sorrow, to share every joy; And where are they now, for their places are vacant, And their voices are missed from their home in Fermoy. The sun shines fair on the square and the river, The moon shines as fair on the green Convent Hill, But the shine on that home now deserted and lonely, Though some of its loved ones cling round its hearth still. They shine on green graves where warm hearts now slumber, Whose laugh rang with mine in youth's careless joy, When we strayed long ago on the banks of Blackwater, Or roamed through the woods and vales round Fermoy. Some have wandered away o'er the Atlantic's broad billows, To toil in the cities and plains of the West, But longingly, sadly, their hearts ever turn To the home and the friends their hearts loved the best. And one who so proudly looked up to green Erin When he roamed o'er the hills a light-hearted boy, And dreamed glowing dreams 'neath her old ruined castles, Now sleeps far away from his home in Fermoy. Good-bye, dear old home, but I won't say forever, For deep in my heart a fond hope clings on, That one day again I might gaze on Blackwater And watch the sun set on the Hill of St.John. But glad though that hour be and joyous the welcome, Its life will be darkened by one sad alloy, For many a loved one who last roamed there with me Will never again see his home in Fermoy. By Kate Dowling. First sung in the Assembly Rooms, Fermoy. **** |
