The following is taken from Romantic Slievenamon:
From Devil's Bit to Thurles, from Golden unto Cahir,
By castle-crowned Ardfinnan running pure,
Past Carrick and Kilsheelan, ever sparkling, ever wheeling,
Flow the waters of the sweet river Suir.
The Galtees and Slieveardagh send their torrents to it's flood,
Bright Anner comes from storied Slievenamon,
The sunshine and the shadows follow fast across the meadows,
Till the dews of the morn are gone.
By the rich flowery fields of the pleasant Golden Vale,
By broken Norman tower and hamlet white,
The whispering of the Suir, saddest bosom would allure,
When it's glad waters dance in the light.
The winds croon and sob thro' ruined abbey walls,
Weird music echoes from the fairy ground,
And the sad mystic rhymes of long forgotten times,
In the murmur of the Suir resound.
In cool sheltered glens where glossy hazels nod,
The wild linnet trills a joyful lay,
The thrush and blackbird singing, sweetest melodies are flinging,
Thro' briar-scented groves all day.
Ah, fair is Killarney, where the smile of God is seen,
And dear to me thy woodlands, Glenmalure,
But when this life is ended, and cold earth with earth is blended
Let me rest by the sweet river Suir.
- Monsignor J.B. Dollard
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