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Culture / Humour / Lore

Evacuated to a Farm 1940

A poem written by an evacuee from Belfast who was residing at the Stevenson farm at Kinkit, near Sion Mills, Co. Tyrone in 1940. The evacuees were two sisters from Belfast whom I believed were called Loughlin - a relation of Mrs. Jane Stevenson, the hostess. Please contact Mervyn Catterson if you have any information about these people.

I am sitting by the window many miles away from home
In a lovely place they call Kinkit in the county of Tyrone
The view is really splendid of hill and dale and dell
And towering above it all is heath clad Bessie Bell

The fields of every shape and size I’ll now in you confide
Are like a crazy cushion upon the mountainside
The tall trees in their autumn tints are rustling in the breeze
Displays their lovely colours of red, gold and copper leaves.

The corn is wavering in the field; its ears of golden grain
And I am watching patiently for the reaper’s here again
The farmer now is seated with Olly by his side
Billy the dog is close behind; his master’s faithful guide

Listen to the glorious rhyme as the reaper cuts the corn
It’s nice to watch them gleaning on the lovely harvest morn
Sam and Jim are busy binding the sheaves of ripened grain
And Alex and the hired man are following in their train

And so the labour still goes on upon this busy farm
Now the farmer’s wife comes through the gate; her basket on her arm
The boys all sit down in the shade as she pours the tea
The farmer passing jokes along which fills them all with glee

Now the reaper’s work is finished and the harvest time is o’er
And all is safely gathered in – this grand and bounteous store
The horses in the meadow. The calves are on the lee
And Jim is bringing home the cows as he whistles merrily

The farmer is feeding chickens; the turkeys and the geese
His wife is gathering in the eggs. We are going to have a feast
Now we give thanks onto our God for He has been so good
To send this bounteous harvest, our life, our health, our food

The sun is setting in the west just like a golden ball
Its mellow rays are glorious before the evening falls
And so in this large homestead as around the fire we sit
There is happiness and contentment in the valley of Kinkit

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