The Road To Cushendall

Where Antrim's mountains rise and fall
down towards the grey stone wall,
there the sea mist casts its pall
along the road to Cushendall.
Upon the rocks and crags so bare,
wild long grasses here and there
catch the wind like mermaid's hair
as it blows down to Cushendall.
Where the dark hills slope and lean
towards the gentle vale of green,
here the sea spray falls like rain
upon the road to Cushendall.
Beyond the shores of reddish clay
and out across the peaceful bay,
the purple hills of Scotland lay
looking down to Cushendall.
Beneath the Red Arch hewn from stone,
a weary traveller all alone
along the coast road leading home,
riding down to Cushendall.
Promise we will walk again
along the pleasant winding lane
that stretches out across the plain
when I return to Cushendall.

By

Kathleen Thorpe