Wasn’t it just grand

When our wee feet turned tanned

Seeing them dipped in

Glen Dun’s cool waters

That gurgled peat down the mountain

With the hue of Aunt Mary’s tea

That bubbled and stewed

In her old black kettle

On her old black range

To welcome those come in for a drop

On any old day of the year

Toes we had then of

The colour you’d find the toes

Of wains playing by the river

In distant Timbuktu

Wasn’t it just grand

When I returned to the townland

My feet again cooled in

Those same tan waters

That rippled by the house at Kinune

With the hue of old Dan’s whiskey

That cured and cheered

Kept in Uncle James’ jar

In the press by the delph

To welcome those come in for a drop

On any old night of the year

Toes I had then of

The colour you’d find the toes

We dipped in the river

In distant childhood

Photograph: My own old feet dipped in the peaty waters of the River Dun in Ireland’s County Antrim.