Where I Come From

I come from The Bog of Allen

Beneath the seat of the ancient King

Listen for the distant Corncrake

Hear the Lark and the Curlew sing

Where the heather and the moss grow

And the turf lies row after row

Out there in the sun to dry

Breathe it in as I walk on by

Where the kids and the dogs all muck in to gather

Bringing home the turf, no matter what the weather

I'm a bogman, deep down, it's where I come from

I was walking along the seashore, in a distant land

Dreaming of Barronstown, Bridie, Frank and Nan

I put the saddle on the pony in the corner field

And cantered down the lane

I was heading for the yellow bog

Sonny was on the slane

He was cutting deep into the turf

He was pegging it on up high

Neddy was catching on the bank

As Gary was spread it out to dry

Footing it, they're cutting it

They're clamping it together

Bringing home the turf

No matter what the weather

When they heard the Milltown bell

The turfmen paused to pray

Bridie's coming down the meadow

With the billy-cans of tea

Nanny's got the basket on her arm

To feed them hungry men

The Dowling girls are on the bog

In the heat of the midday sun

I'm dreaming, dreaming, of the jet black loam

The roots of the long haul journey men

Kept calling me back home

From way out west in Canada

From deep down in Geelong

To the yellow bog in Allenwood

The place where I belong

I'm a bogman, deep down, it's where I come from