Oh, I have often wondered to countries over seas
To places where other folk love and long to be
But I always return to my dear old homeland
Where people salute you by a wave of the hand
There is one spot in mind that is dearest to me -
Duncannon Village, by the sunny south sea -
With its bustling harbour where fishing trawlers land
And its sandy seashore with its golden strand.
Life is simple and day passes, so peaceful and quite,
Until the clouds gather and the winds howl at the fall of night,
Then prayers are recited for the men fishing the sea,
For those fathers, husbands and sons to return safe and free.
Some nights drag on when squalls take control,
It’s then when the family pray for a comforting console.
Then morning arrives, they watch the horizon for boats to sail in,
Safe and sound and homeward bound, their payers take a win.
Over head, sea birds glide back and forth and cry out,
Fish are unloaded from vessels as men hurry about.
One old villager shouts, “It was a good catch today! ”
“That it was” says another. “Please God there’s many more on the way”
T’is from here I found idea to carry me to this page,
I don’t know if ever it will earn me a wage
But till then I’ll continue to gather my thoughts and to write down
My love for that great place, that fishing village so renowned.
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