By the steep craggy braes where the hazel nuts grow,
From the top of the cliff to the valley below,
Where the underbrush shelters the hare in her den,
O, there was my home by the Tullybrick glen.
With bright blooming heather the hilltops were clad,
The springs in the valleys made all nature glad,
But as memories recall this wild beauty again,
I sigh for a glimpse of the Tullybrick glen.
I sigh for a glimpse for the friends love well,
Whose friendship I value more than I can tell,
But they have all vanished clean out of my ken,
Like the winds that have whistled o’er Tullybrick glen.
For some are no more, as they sleep neath the sod,
And others have wandered to find homes abroad,
May the blessing of God be upon you again,
And cause things to flourish round Tullybrick glen.
And now it’s farewell to you ‘Erin’s green Isle’,
And long may you flourish and long may you smile,
And while I draw breath, I will think now and then,
Of the glory and grandeur of Tullybrick glen.
And of the Old Church and Moyola below,
Which down from the Mountains like silver does flow,
A picture comes up every now and then,
Of all those fair scenes about Tullybrick glen.
George Barnett 