On a winter's night in 1993-94 young Seamus O'Rourke left Peter Dononhue's public house in Carrigallen, Co. Leitrim. He'd take a few pints and by the time he got home his spirits were low. Sitting outside in the darkness he thought about Druminchin, his part of Leitrim, and composed a haunting poem. A carpenter by trade, O'Rourke wouldn't have dreamt of writing anything down, but for days and weeks afterward he would recall and later recite the lines which had flowed that night. His friends Philip and Sean Mcintyre from the townsland of Curraghhoy knew Druminchin well and sensed that they were hearing a man's heartfelt thoughts about his home area. A silence descended before Seamus began to recite - not the silence before a song, but the silence before something more serious. DRUMINCHIN HILLS Lie down flat you Druminchin Hills For there's damn-all for you to see And there's no one looks at your rushy sides Or your mossy bottom down at Kelly's Drain And what sod you have can go to sleep For hungry sheep would rather wait to die And young men pass by and walk on to prouder and flatter land. In parts of Cavan and up near Mullingar Aye, and I'll sit beside you now And sing songs of times gone by When young men made hay with the fork, And drank tae from a bottle and hid their joy in your drauchy camouflage. What right have you to stand so proud Among the whin and the whitethorn bush What crop did you ever yield That wasn't washed away in the autumn flood What good could your God have meant When backs were bent lifting watery spuds And cattle walked knee-deep in your daub and mud In your unsheltered fields You're as auld as the hills, Druminchin And you'll be there for ever more Crushed between Kilerrin and the walls of Newtowngore No foreigner shall ever plant his trees in your channelly ground Not a rood of your unsheltered fields shall be sold for a Government pound You're as auld as the hills. Druminchin You're my Druminchin hills. -- Seamus O'Rourke (contemp.)