My name is Geordie Barnett, and you’ll never find me grand,
But you’ll know me when you meet me. I’m a real mountainy man,
With heather in my buttonhole, and peat upon my shoes,
And if you meet me anywhere you’ll get the latest news.
I have climbed the Sperrin mountains, and likewise Slievegallion brae,
Fir mountain and Bellevenuemore, where many sheep do stray,
I carry a bag upon my back, and a hammer in my hand,
You’ll know me when you meet me, I’m the real mountainy man.
I have been up many’s the river, aye, and many’s the winding glen,
For mostly in the open, I’m inclined my life to spend,
For nature’s rich contrasting scenes, are ever new and grand,
And you’ll know me when you meet me, I’m the real mountainy man.
I’ve been by Lough Neagh’s winding shores and grassy stretches flat,
I’ve seen the swans go flying round above the waves or that,
But though I love those lowland scenes, for lowland spots are grand,
You will very seldom see me there, I’m the real mountainy man.
Because my clothes are ragged, you may think me ragged too,
But I’m tight and active on my feet, when paddling on the dew,
My feet were mostly active, though my clothes were seldom grand,
But you’ll know me when you meet me, I’m the real mountainy man.
My bag may soon hang on a nail, and my hammer lie around,
When I do stop my climbing of the heathery mountains brown,
For all things must come to an end, no matter how we plan,
But you’ll know me when you meet me, I’m the real mountainy man.
(1964)
George Barnett 