People driving cattle down to Newport
Left a scar a road upon the hill
High up above the bog the cows were driven
You can see it there upon the hillside still
No tarmac there no pavement ‘neath your footsteps
Just the beaten path they walked so long
From Bangor down to Newport for the market
To sell their beef and maybe sing a song
A Heritage Trail today a path for walkers
A place for exploration in the wild
Mountain streams and corries heather underfoot
And all the while the sea out far and wide
My roots are here along the Bangor Trail
My mother from Glencullen in the north
And to the south is Slinaun my grandfather’s place
They left this trail to find what they were worth
My mother met my father in the war
They honeymooned when everything had eased
They crossed the Erris wilderness in hopes of better things
Nine months later I turned up
I trust that they were pleased
I am a son of Erris through and through
Though growing up far from that Bangor hill
I returned so many times and walked the land
And looked upon that scar that sits there still
Images of cattle and of men
Old ghosts from way back God knows when
And on the hill the beaten path remains
To tell of yesteryear and Erris rains
Brian Fahy
6 March 2022
Erris Poetry 