Ye celestial genius and brilliant muses
Pray lend your aid to my simple song,
It is my intention to sing the praises
Of a rural district to which I belong.
Its along the banks of a flowing river
Where every passion is from man obscured,
Its name to mention is my intention
It's appellation is Sweet Mountstewart.
For to sing its praises in poetic phrases
Is more of learning than I can command,
All beauties of nature so adorn each feature
It is styled the garden of old Ireland.
When famed Aurora or sparkling Flora
In other places must be endured
You'll find a refuge in its glens and valleys
Round the sheltered borders of Sweet Mountstewart.
If ancient Solomon had ever trampled on
This lovely valley where a king did reign,
In far Jerusalem he'd not have built his temple,
All Judea's beauty he would disdain;
For the Israelites, had they crossed this nation
From Arabian deserts where they ofttimes toured,
By this pleasant river they'd have built their station,
In the New Canaan they call Mountstewart.
Now to conclude these few simple verses
In hope that happiness may still remain
In this lovely valley where a son to Billy
Has never tarnished its unsullied name;
May heaven direct them, the Lord protect them,
As in this oppression they have oft endured
May peace and plenty never find them scanty
The true inhabitants of Sweet Mountstewart.