Wee Burn! That passes by so near
My home, that I can sometimes hear
Thy feet go dancing on
Adown their rugged rocky way,
As they have done by night and day
Through all the ages gone.
In youth, to me ‘twas more than fun
To hear thee sing, to watch thee run.
Joy’s chalice then I drank
While dreaming dreams of heroes bold,
Or trying men of clay to mould
From out thy blue-clay bank.
The men of clay I then designed,
And the child heroes of my mind
Like youthful days have gone:
Whilst thou, the youthfullest of rills,
And yet as ancient as the hills,
Still goest gaily on.
While generations come and go
Sing on! For God ordains it so;
Sing on, sing on, wee Burn!
While thy deep channel deeper wears
Still brighten hearts, and lighten cares,
And comfort souls that mourn.
‘The Bard of Foremass’
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.