O, my name is Geordie Banet, and I dwell in Ireland green,
At a little spot they call `Sixtowns’ in old Ballinascreen,
The Sperrins brown are clad with snow, and darkness hangs around,
And the only beacon we have got is the lights of Draperstown.
They oft’ shine out in grandeur, like the star in the East,
When Christmas time comes around, with good things for the feast,
But though I love to hear the bells ring out their glorious sound,
I can’t forget those shining lights, the lights of Draperstown.
And brave men do their business there, beneath those shining lights,
With justice in their dealings too, by either day or night,
There’s Burns, aye and Regan, aye and Taylor of renown,
All dwelling ‘neath those shining lights, the lights of Draperstown.
There’s Joe McBride, O’Keeney too, and Parkinson as well,
And Master Gunn and others too, whose names I cannot spell,
McDiarmad’s thriving business and McConnamy’s of renown,
All lit up by those shining lights, the lights of Draperstown.
Long may they shine in splendour and peace forever reign,
In this village by Moyola, the lights stand out so plain,
And may it grow in grandeur, till its praises far resound,
And everyone delights to see the lights of Draperstown.
As I rove round the homestead here, along the Sperrin’s side,
I often view those distant lights, those distant lights with pride,
And when I’m far away from home, and homeward comes around,
I bless those lights, those cheery lights, the lights of Draperstown.
George Barnett 