My black hills have never seen the sun rising, Eternally they look north towards Armagh. Lot’s wife would not be salt if she had been Incurious as my black hills that are happy When dawn whitens Glassdrummond chapel.
My hills hoard the bright shillings of March While the sun searches in every pocket. They are my Alps and I have climbed the Matterhorn With a sheaf of hay for three perishing calves
The sleety winds fondle the rushy beards of Shancoduff While the cattle-drovers sheltering in the Featherna Bush Look up and say: ‘Who owns them hungry hills That the water-hen and snipe must have forsaken? A poet? Then by heavens he must be poor.’ I hear and is my heart not badly shaken?
GLOSSARY GLOSSARY
[Title] Shancoduff: sean chuadh dubh (Irish) an old black hollow; a townland in Co. Monaghan
[3] Lot’s wife: a biblical character who was turned into a pillar of salt as punishment for her curiosity
[5, 10, 12] Glassdrummond, Rocksavage, Featherna Bush: local place names
[6] shillings: a coin used in the past which was worth 12 pence
[8] Matterhorn: one of the highest Alpine summits
[10] Forth: a prehistoric hill fort [11] sleety: formed from sleet – half-frozen rain
[1 1] rushy: covered in, or made of, rushes – green, grass-like plants
[12] cattle-drovers: farm labourers who move herds from pasture to pasture