The winds blow down from Orra
As I walk upland from Cushendun
The Antrim hills now white with snow
Make this treacherous journey slow
No man or beast was made to bear
The sleety winds you get up there
But to see my Kitty, oh the love I feel
Is worth every mile I walk, to loughguille
My pockets now empty
but for a golden ring
The thought of her, my wife to be
Makes me want to shout way glee
But my steps on Orra are getting tougher now
As I struggle waist deep in snow
It's going to take a bit more time
just a few more miles to go
But now, can't feel my freezing feet
as I drift into the deepest sleep
morning time will come..
Clutching a ring beneath the snow
melting in the sun
The loughguille church bells
played a different tune.
For my love from Cushendun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem