The Araglen

Through old fields of Cullen by night and by day On towards the Blackwater it babbles on it's way Old Araglen with the ever babbling tongue By bards of Duhallow it's praises are sung The centuries have come and the centuries have gone But old Araglen to the Blackwater forever flows on By ditches and through fields where rushes in clusters do grow By groves and by dykes and many a hedgerow Home to the river bird that everybody does know The dark brown dipper with breast white as snow Birds once heard and seen one cannot get wrong Familiar in their appearance and in their distinctive song The Duhallow bards it has inspired to rhyme The Araglen River so ancient in time.