The Old Stile

Killyleagh is the setting for one of the most famous poems in Irish History.

The Lament of the Irish Emigrant

The poem is a tragic story set in the times of the famine in the 19th century. The poem tells of an emigrant returning to the graveyard where his wife and child are buried. It was written around 1848 about an Irishman, Phelim Magennis, shortly before he left his home forever to sail to what he hoped and prayed would be a better life in America. Tradition has it that Phelim Magennis came from the Burren district of South Down to marry a Mary McAnulty from Killyleagh. Three years after the wedding, both wife and child died as victims of the cholera of 1848 and were laid to rest in the old graveyard in Killyleagh.

Lady Helen Dufferin of Killyleagh Castle met young Phelim Magennis as he sat on the stile taking a long, last, lingering look at the place where his loved ones were buried before leaving Ireland shores.

This meeting inspired Lady Helen Dufferin to write this famous poem known as "The Lament of the Irish Emigrant". It was eventually set to music by George Baker in a hunting ballad style. The most famous recording was made by Count John McCormack.

It is still possible to visit the stone stile and graveyard, underneath the walls of Killyleagh Castle. They are located down a laneway to the side of the castle.

The stile and the graveyard are considered one of the most historical sites in Ireland. In 1995 the Voluntary service in Belfast restored and preserved the stile and the famous kissing gate. Lady Dufferin, who took a historic walk back in time as one of her ancestors had done before her, planted a tree to mark the official completion of the work done to restore Mary’s Stile in Killyleagh.

• Listen to the tune

The Irish Emigrant's Lament Poem

I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side,
On a bright May morning, long ago,
When first you were my bride;
The corn was springing fresh and green,
And the lark sang loud and high,
And the red was on your lip, Mary,
And the love-light in your eye.

The place is little changed, Mary-
The day is bright as then-
The lark's loud song is in my ear,
And the corn is green again;
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
And your breath warm on my cheek,
And I still keep list'ning for the words
You never more may speak.

'Tis but a step down yonder lane,
And the little church stands near-
The church where we were wed, Mary,
I see the spire from here;
But the grave-yard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest,
For I've laid you, darling, down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now, Mary,
For the poor make no new friends,
But, O, they love the better still
The few our Father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary,
My blessing and my pride-
There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died!

Yours was the brave good heart, Mary,
That still keeps hoping on,
When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arms' young stretch had gone;
There was a comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your brow-
I bless you, Mary, for that same,
Though you can't hear me now.

I thank you for the patient smile,
When your heart was fit to break,
When the hunger-pain was gnawing there,
And you hid it for my sake;
I bless you for the pleasant word,
When you heart was sad and sore-
O! I'm thankful you are gone, Mary,
Where the grief can't reach you more.

I'm bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary- kind and true!
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm going to.
They say there's bread and wear for all,
And the sun shines always there,
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair.

And often in those grand old woods,
I'll sit and shut my eyes,
And my heart will travel back again
To the place where Mary lies;
And I'll think I see the little stile,
Where we sat side by side,
And the springing corn and bright May morn
When first you were my bride

« Return to history page