Waterville

This song was composed by Deborah V Curran, Ardkearagh, Waterville, circa 1925.

It is interesting that in the first verse of this song that the composer talks of the fields around Waterville ‘are green with corn’ a crop that is almost absent from this part of South Kerry in recent times. The evidence of mills can be seen throughout the area. Millstones can be seen in gardens, used as a historical decoration, incorporated in the fabric of buildings or as a focal point in stone walls.

There’s a spot in South West Kerry,

Where I was bred and born.

Where the hills are clad with purple heath,

and the fields are green with corn.

The wee birds warble on the boughs,

The thrush’s note is shrill,

And shining afar, like a shining star,

Is my native Waterville.

Oh! Pleasant are thy thick groved woods,

And beautiful they glades.

Where the weary always find their rest

Beneath thy cool green shades.

The sick and old in search of health

Their lungs thine air will fill,

For fragrant is the Atlantic breeze

Of far famed Waterville.

Beside that village cool and clear

The Lough Currane waters flow.

And murmuring soft melodies

As oceanwards they go.

How often on that bridge I sat,

And thought if there were still

Some brighter days in store for you

Dear, glorious Waterville.

Thy skies are blue, thy shores are washed

By Ballinskelligs Bay.

Thy memory lingers round my heart,

Though far from you I stray.

Thy mountains steep, thy valleys deep,

Where many a rippling rill,

Shines ever bright in the moonbeams light

Beside you, Waterville.

Thy maidens fair you’ll find nowhere

Excelled in friendship sweet;

They always wear the happy smile

That strangers like to meet.

Like the gentle dove, their beauty charms

E’en men of greatest skill,

For mild and graceful as you’ll meet

Are the girls of Waterville.

Thy men likewise are mild and true

Unto the land they love.

Though exiled far from their native home

In him who reigns above.

They ne’er forget to place their trust,

If it be his Holy Will,

To see the dawn when freedoms flag

Floats o’er you, Waterville.

Farewell my own, my native town

Though I never may see thee more.

Still on my dying bed I’ll pray

To God that may thy shore

Be ever free from slavery,

And may thy heroes still

Strike one more blow for God and right,

To guard you, Waterville.