Poetry Archives

On Douglas Bridge I met a man
Who lived adjacent to Strabane,
  Before the English hung him high
For riding with O’Hanlon.

The eyes of him were just as fresh
As when they burned within the flesh;
  And his boot-legs were wide apart
From riding with O’Hanlon.

“God save you, Sir,” I said with fear,
“You seem to be a stranger here.”
  “Not I,” said he, “nor any man
Who rides with Count O’Hanlon.

“I know each glen from North Tyrone
To Monaghan, and I’ve been known
  By every clan and parish, since
I rode with Count O’Hanlon.”

“Before that time,” said he to me,
“My fathers owned the land you see;
  But they are now among the moors
A-riding with O’Hanlon.”

“Before that time,” said he with pride,
“My fathers rode where now they ride
  As Rapparees, before the time
Of trouble and O’Hanlon.”

“Good night to you, and God be with
The tellers of the tale and myth,
  For they are of the spirit-stuff
That rides with Count O’Hanlon.”

“Good night to you,” said I, “and God
Be with the chargers, fairy-shod,
  That bear the Ulster heroes forth
To ride with Count O’Hanlon.”

On Douglas Bridge we parted, but
The Gap o’ Dreams is never shut,
  To one whose saddled soul to-night
Rides out with Count O’Hanlon.