Oh, the sun, the glorious sun,

When o’er dusky shade hath won,

Colouring where the flowers run,

Ripening the berry;

There I ever long to be,

There my heart is ever free,

There all faces smile at me

In my dear Stinnerry.


There most golden is the corn,

There most radiant is the morn;

Happiest is the infant born

In that hamlet airy.

Peace is there, no hint of strife;

There’s a place to seek a wife

In my loved Stinnerry.


There the bees incessant drone,

There the breezes gently moan,

There is warmth in every stone,

Roofs glow like the cherry.

When at last I come to lie

With a glazed unseeing eye,

There below a brighter sky

I shall see Stinnerry !


Mona’s Herald     23.7.63