Dole Day Blues

Ramelton ############################## In the style of A. M. Donaghey ######################################################## The Lennon whispers under stone, Where salmon turn in silt and foam, And Ramelton dreams in Georgian grace— A harbour held in time’s embrace. ######################################################## Its gables lean with quiet pride, As if to nod at boats that glide, Or bless the feet on cobbled way That wear the dust of yesterday. ######################################################### One of many churches bell still rings Through Sundays soaked in psalm and spring, And chapel walls remember well The tales that older voices tell. ######################################################### The market square, the merchant’s quay, The ships that once sought open sea— Now children play where traders stood With butter, linen, flax, and wood. ######################################################## Beyond the bridge, the meadows lie, Their silence stitched with lark and sky, And hedgerows hum the songs of yore That keep the hearth of Ulster lore. ######################################################## So let the road bend where it will, Through wind-blown furze and granite hill— For here, where river meets the shore, Ramelton holds us evermore.