A Love That Would No Die

Change and be Dammed

My brain, you are my dearest friend

My traveller on the road of many foolish mistakes

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A  LOVE THAT  WOULD NOT DIE

 

Between Strabane and Derry, where the river Dennett flows;

On a road that leads to Donemana town,

Stands a lonely stately mansion, where in days of long ago,

Dwelt a family of wealth, and high renown.

 

The owners’ heir – a young man famed for horsemanship and grace!

For his learning and his courtly manners too –

Was loved by all!   And was himself, a lover of the chase.

When the vales rules rang out the Huntsmen’s “View – Ha – Loo”.

 

One evening, when returning from his favourite sport; they say,

With a heart without a worry, or a care!

He met up with a factory girl, who homeward made her way –

A young damsel, charming, elegant, and fair.

 

He fell in love, and so did she, and often times the met,

In secret, as the days too swiftly sped.

Their love grew daily stronger, ‘till at last a day was set.

When, in secret, the young lovers would be wed.

 

But ah, the best laid plans we make can often go astray.

And our fondest hopes lie shattered on the ground.

The bride adorned and ready stood on the appointed day.

But alas, the bridegroom nowhere could be found.

 

Her wedding dress within a trunk for seven long weary years,

Lay folded up,and neatly packed away.

Often sadly looked over, often soiled with bitter tears,

That had stained it since that sad, eventful day.

 

But – though prisoner held,and banished – brave young Ogilby still swore,

That – his freedom won – again he would return.

To his true love, sadly grieving by the Dennet’s winding shore.

In the little white washed cot beside the burn.

 

He came, they wed, they sailed away afar across the seas,

His ancestral home they left far, far behind.

And – all lonesome and forsaken – there the stately Altnacreese,

In the townland of Liscloon you still can find.

 

Poor, but happy – lived our heroes in a land far, far away,

Side by side they rest beneath a foreign sky.

And the home of Ogilby still stands – though mouldering to decay –

A memorial to a love that would not die.

 

By William Reid

My sincere thanks to Pamela Mntch, (daughter of the poet) for giving me permission to post her father’s poem.

“A love that would not die”, was first published in an Anthology of poems and short stories by the “Scribblers”. Vol 2 1997