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Sentimental Journey by John Paxton

Sentimental Journey by John Paxton

I've travelled many places
from Cork to Antrim town
Donegal and Cushendall
and some I've been around,
but of all the many places
I know my dearest wish
is to ramble around where I still call home
down there in Tullylish.

Think of the days in old Chapel Row
the neighbours and friends living there;
of the clean swept floors and the old half-doors
with seldom ever a care.
But years have rolled on
the Row long since gone
with memories still fresh in some ways
and as for me - I'd still love to be
back in those carefree old days.

I just can't forget the old School Road -
I recall it all so plain,
alas, some of my friends
that have gone on before
are friends that I won't see again.
They've gone on to another land;
to Heaven and all its joys
But I won't forget the dear old school
where we played when we were boys.

I'll take a walk round Holymount
with its overhanging trees,
where the sweet scene of honeysuckle
still lingers in the breeze,
and walk along the riverbank
where the Bann flows freely on
and listen to the birdsong -
their chorus from early dawn.

The cart tracks, they are no more
round that broken down old Mill -
Mill Park is but a shadow
as I move on to Rabbit Hill.
I can hear the rippling river
as it kisses rocks below.
It keeps forever rolling on
It's only us that come and go.

The Church stands still as beautiful
with majestic tower on high
and that little Church Turn village
has grown since days gone by,
but the kindly folk are still the same
and my heartfelt ever wish
that everyone in this old world
be like the folk in Tullylish.

Drumhorc , it looks inviting
as round Bodel's Hill I stray
and though I'd like to climb those hills
I'll come another day.
The evening's drawing in now
and I've still some way to go -
these old limbs now, are slowing up,
slow unlike some years ago.

Then 'Adieu' to dearest Banford,
Tullylish and Knocknagor,
your haunting smile keeps coming back
and will forever more.
The fleeting years are only hours
or so it all would seem
but the memory of my ramble
has fulfilled my lovely dream.

 

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