The Back Of Beyond

Over Annach Mór bog rises Nephin Mór mountain

Between them, Lough Conn and the winding River Moy

Beyond them lie Achill and the broad Atlantic Ocean

To my back, Sliabh Gamph where I rambled as a boy

There in the middle of a midsummer's evening

I see all the geese and the crows flocking home

When a ball of red fire sinks down behind Nephin

Putting itself out on the wild Atlantic foam

Carts crackle and crank behind cross-eyed asses

Carrying their poor masters to tea and to rest

When a clamor of a working day now is at an ending

And the sinking sun disappears down in the west

I sat cross-legged playing an old accordian

In the middle of a field that was facing the bog

Playing slow airs that no one's ever heard of

And the cold River Moy covers Nepin in fog

The back of beyond is a place where I love to be

Far from New York City, the concrete and pain

Where the air, it is so clean, and people are astounding

It's there that my thoughts and dreams will remain

Over Annach Mór bog rises Nephin Mór mountain

Between them, Lough Conn and the winding River Moy

Beyond them lie Achill and the broad Atlantic Ocean

To my back, Sliabh Gamph where I rambled as a boy