Dear old Newport Town


Here by the Mulcaire banks I sit mid the lovely flowers in June
The birds are singing merrily and the meadows in full bloom,
When on my boyhood days I think, the tears come rolling down
For it’s the morning I must leave you, dear old Newport town

I grow lonely as I think of each lad and comely lass
Who used to greet me warmly on my way to early mass
With their winning ways and greetings as they passed me up and down
My heart will break when my leave I’ll take, of dear old Newport town

Farewell awhile sweet Gortnanoe, where I oft times chased the hare
Through Caher hills and Carrowkeale and Cully’s mountains bare
And sweet Clare Glens whose flowery dells, I oft strolled up and down
Must I leave those scenes and the girl I love in dear old Newport town

Tipperary’s hills and vales farewell, from you I now must part
I’ll ne’er again roam Cullen’s grove, the thought near breaks my heart
When I think of the hurling and the dance and Keeper’s summit brown
And the days I fished in the Turnhole near dear old Newport town

How lonely is the pigeon’s coo and sad the blackbird’s lay
And loud and high, the thrush’s song on a long bright summer’s day
I’ll sit down and cry my fill where the flood comes rushing down
And dashes ‘neath the ivy bridge in dear old Newport town.

Adieu, adieu sweet Newport town, once more I’ll say adieu
Where many’s the pleasant day I spent with comrades loyal and true
And if God spares me, I’ll return to where the Mulcaire waters flow
And when I die, my bones will lie in dear old Ballymackeogh


Written by Michael Bourke

Michael Bourke was born in Main Street, Newport in 1879 and died there in 1954. He wrote numerous ballads with various topics – hurling, emigration, local characters, etc

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