Christy Moore

As I wandered abroad by Kilsheelan

Where the river meanders on down

To my left lay the Comeragh Mountains

To the right of me sweet Sliabh na mBan

Where the fishermen cast on the waters

And the apples are pressed into wine

Where the herd returns slowly to pasture

Through the fields that surround Ballydine


I marvelled at nature’s abundance

In Tipperary so rich and so rare

I drank from the well of spring water

Breathing in deep the fresh air

When I came to John Hanrahan’s homestead

In the fields around Ballycurkeen

I lay down in a meadow of wild flower

And dreamt a mysterious dream


I dreamt of a curious eviction

Unlike the evictions of old

No sign of a redcoat nor bailiff

‘twas more pernicious and cold

On the air cam a colourless vapour

The fields they felt silent and still

As I lay in that meadow of wildflower

Dreaming on Hanrahan’s  hill


When I awoke I was frightenened

I knew ‘twas time to head home

I made my way back to Cluan Meala

On the road passing Merck Sharpe and Dohme