Fermanagh Gold Introduction
To commemorate a visit to the Homeplace of the Tinnenys, at Goladuff, Newtownbutler, County Fermanagh, on June 9, 1996. Written June 10, 1996 at the home of Neilie and Josie Tinneny Green at Drumalee, Co. Cavan, Ireland by Lee Havens Tinneny -- 'blow-in'.'

Click image to view



Lee Havens Tinneny


The plan was made; the day was set; to Goladuff we'd go;
The Tinnenys and the 'Blow-ins' had roots to seek and show.

The grand appointed day had come; our goals we soon would fix;
A Sunday afternoon, the ninth of June, of 1996.

We dressed the part of adventurers and headed for the lough;
Across we'd go from Quivvy shore; at Gola we would dock.

Neilie rowed the Tinneny boat; the course was very sure;
Twas Maisie, Josie, Richard and Lee who stepped on Gola's shore.

The wind it blew, no rain came down so Neilie headed back;
To go and fetch the others; sure, Michael took the track.

Hubert rowed the second time and Bunty swam beside;
Susanna, too, now made the trip; it was an easy ride.

We stepped and strode way up the hill; we chattered all the way.
There was no doubt, no question asked, this was a special day!

Returning to the Homeplace ground, our roots we knew would soon be found.
Up through the lane, before so clear, now covered by yews and moss, so drear.

The shell of the house before us arose with walls propped up; no thatch exposed.
The Homeplace, once fine as any around, seemed destined a death, down to the ground.

The briars, the ivy, the nettles too, all whispered to us...
"Stay away! Go! Shoo!"

We wouldn't relent, our intentions were pure.
We'd dig up the ground and poke all around; the past it still did lure.

The bottles, the pots, the locks and the hinges,
Gave out with memories, joys and sad twinges.

The history was there down deep and on top.
We knew that our hunting would not stop.

Laughter, stories, photos and the like;
Set us moving toward our next strike.

There Francis' and Patrick's wee houses not far;
But part of the Tinneny's historical star.

We trod in the muck, the mud and the mire;
But never did mind it, nor did we tire.

We'd been with the past on Goladuff hills;
We'd been with each other; such a joy...such a thrill!

Submitted by and reproduced with permission of Rich Tinneny

If you enjoyed this particular poem, you may like to read The Bridge into Galoon by Tommy Tinneny on our sister site Fermanagh Presents. Click HERE to go direct to the song text.