For the strangers came and tried to teach us their way.
They scorned us just for bein’ what we are.
But they might as well go chasin’ after moon beams
Or light a penny candle from a star.
~ by Arthur Colahan
The strangers came in suits
Shiney shoes, not boots
Sniney shoes, they no longer wore sandles or clogs
They told us to save the coots
The flora and the newts
We would have to stop cutting turf on our bogs
They listened to folk talking who did not like shit
Were concerned of street safety, said their writ
We would have to stop having our Horse Fair
The more that they persisted
The more we the people resisted
It will be on the streets of Banagher, it belongs there.
They can mock and scorn
This is the land where we were born
This is our heritage, these have been and will be our ways
We will cut our turf as we always done
By machine now not slane, by both father and son
And Banagher will enjoy its long loved Horse Fair Days.