Old Knocknagree - Poem by Francis Duggan
In my flights of fancy I often do see
The Village in Sliabh Luachra and Duhallow known as Knocknagree
A famous old Village on the higher ground
With views of the mountains for long miles around.
The hill of Caherbarnagh and the Paps of Shrone
And old Gortavehy in it's face of stone
And Clara near Millstreet not that far away
The memory of such beauty with one tend to stay.
The Village where Ned Buckley the great bard penned many a rhyme
And has it changed much with the passing of time?
Since i was last there some two decades gone by
And the young boy back then is no longer a boy.
Of old Knocknagree Fair an old story is told
Of the great bard Eoghan Ruadh O Suilleabhain he was not then old
By an irate farmer was hit with a stick on the head
Of something he had written about him or about him had said.
'Twas said that as a result of his injury Eoghan the bard later died
But of his place in literary history he has not been denied
The words of the poet are still living today
Though for his renown his price was huge to pay.
A Village on the Cork and Kerry border that never grew to a Town
But old Knocknagree has it's claims to renown
My last memories of it two decades ago
Was of a day in November cold enough to snow.
Comments about Old Knocknagree by Francis Duggan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe