St. Johnston, Co. Donegal
When I want to get away from it all
I set off for St. Johnston in Donegal
Into the far North West
To the place I love best
I stop off at a hillside cottage
On the outskirts of the village
Overlooking the silvery waters of the Foyle
Amidst fields wherein farmers slave to the soil
I wander down station road
To the banks of Egg Quay
Boats are mooring by the load
In this haven of tranquillity
I trudge stealthily in the mucky water
Hoping for a glimpse of a shy otter
As wild geese soar in the air
Towards the horizon somewhere
The old Railway Bridge in the background,
In former glory, once rumbled to the sound
Of the Great Northern line in times past
Chugging into St. Johnston from Belfast
Worshippers flock to St. Baithin’s
Saturday evening mass soon begins.
In this country chapel by the roadside
Of such beauty marvelled far and wide.
The craic is mighty in the fisherman’s inn
With a rousing sing song and a fine drop of gin
For a bit of live music there’s Toland’s Bar
At the foot of main street, not too far
The weekend is now over
And I’m off again like a rover
To the big smoke in Dublin City
But for me it is not a pity
I have the best of both worlds they say
And can return to St. Johnston another day
My childhood home
I write of in this poem
Paula Lynch
Drumenon
St Johnston