Ballaglass River

On high mountain moorland, domain of the raven,
It springs into life from a dark, mossy fault.
Cascading the rock slide, and through a stone culvert,
To cross the main highway and pass Creg-na-Molt.

Where the Ballaglass River leaves The Clagh Ouyr,
It murmurs and sparkles then tumbles away.
Down the dark Nut Brough, along the Flood Meadow,
To seep through the cobbles on the Beach at Cornaa.

Grace came from England to her cousin’s wedding,
She heard river music which spoke to her soul.
Tableaus in grottos which change with the seasons,
In the art and the music she divined her life’s role.

As the Ballaglass River passes Ballellin,
Gliding round boulders polished and black
When the Ballaglass River leaves Ballajora,
Its gone forever and it never looks back.

I met her at Cardle and we spoke after chapel,
Strolled down the glen then we made us a start.
She joined with a stockman, who lives by the river,
Which brings life to our cattle and joy to her heart.

As the Ballaglass River falls off the mountain,
It whispers or chatters then hurries away.
Singing and dancing through woodland and pasture,
Then escapes to the ocean through the beach at Cornaa.

David Kelly