By W.C. Darmody
O, sweet Slievenamon, you're my darling and pride,
With your soft swelling bosom and mien like a bride,
How oft have I wandered in sunshine and shower,
From dark Kyleavalla to lonely Glenbower;
Or spent with a light heart the long summer's day,
'Twixt Suidhe-Finn and the Clodagh above Kyleatlea.
- Charles J.Kickham.