Where I Come From (Live) Christy Moore

I come from The Bog of Allen
Beneath the seat of the ancient King
Listen for the distant Corncrake
Hear the Lark and the Curlew sing

Where the heather and the moss grow
And the turf lies row after row
Out there in the sun to dry
Breathe it in as I walk on by

Where the kids and the dogs all muck in to gather
Bringing home the turf, no matter what the weather

I’m a bogman, deep down, it’s wherе I come from

I was walking along the seashorе, in a distant land
Dreaming of Barronstown, Bridie, Frank and Nan
I put the saddle on the pony in the corner field
And cantered down the lane
I was heading for the yellow bog
Sonny was on the slane

He was cutting deep into the turf
He was pegging it on up high
Neddy was catching on the bank
As Gary was spread it out to dry