This river runs wide and free. This river means home to me.
This river I know Caradoc crossed.
Through Catimundua’s vanity his kingship lost.
Arthur a tourist here drunk on local fusty beer.
This river crossed my blood as Galloglass and Saxon
Would.
In the hook of the river the gales give gifts of frowns
Worn in all the northwest towns.
These ****** scowls don’t mean your sad just were you grow the wind was bad.
And by bad I don’t mean wrong.
That it just blows long and strong.
This river drew me near today, like the faithful go to
Pray.
This river will outlive my time and see as dust this mortal rhyme.
This river has now claimed this day as red light low pours out through the gray.