Bonnie Portmore


O Bonnie Portmore, I am sorry to see
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree,
For it stood on your shore for many's the long day
Till the long boats of Antrim came to float it away.

O Bonnie Portmore, you shine where you stand,
And the more I think on you the more I think long,
If I had you now as I had once before,
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.

All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep,
Saying, "Where will we shelter or where will we sleep?"
For the Oak and the Ash, they are all cutten down,
And the walls of Bonnie Portmore are all down to the ground.