The Pride Of Knocknagree
The beauty of her Village and none so fair as she
Way back in the mid fifties she was the pride of Knocknagree
One in her early twenties then and all but in her prime
She did not go unnoticed and she inspired the poets to rhyme.
Her eyes were as blue as the dunnock's egg and her shoulder length hair was hazel brown
And young men lined up to ask her to dance in the dance hall in Rathmore Town
But she did not Marry a local man and in Sliabh Luachra grow
old and gray
The wanderlust was in her heart and it beckoned her away
From the old Village on the hill where she first saw light of day
She went off in the migrant boat to the U S of A
She made a new life for herself far from her Homeland shore
Far from the fields of Knocknagree and the roadway to Rathmore.
I first saw her in April when wildflowers bloomed by the rill
Her brown hair tossing in the freshening winds as she cycled down the Village Hill
And I was taken by her beauty even though I was a boy
And that memory will remain with me until the day I die.
She was the pride of Knocknagree when she was in her prime
A woman of rare beauty who inspired the poets to rhyme
The wanderlust in her young heart it carried her elsewhere
And she went to see the bigger Towns in the bigger World out there.