This poem was written by John P. Timmon, Navan who emigrated to the United States in January 1920. He died there in the 1940s. His brother Dr. W.P .Timmon died 4th June 1947.

 

Navan Dear Old Navan

It nestles in a headland where two ancient rivers kiss

In an embrace so light to conquer to the sea,

In the centre of the county with a great historic past

Lies the dearest place in all the world to me,

Where I wandered as a boy, 'tis to me a lasting joy

And my heart with a yearning overflows.

Oh, Navan, dear old Navan, to me, oh gradh mo chroidhe

You're the place where my old home lies.

 

It is not because of Tara's Halls or Slane'e historic hill

Nor Bective's grand old abbey, they are nigh,

It is not the Teltown story for 'tis almost at our doors,

Nor Donaghmore's round tower close by,

'Tis the lure of long ago, 'tis the love of those we know,

And my heart with yearning overflows.

Oh, Navan, dear old Navan, to me, oh gradh mo chroidhe

You're the place where my old home lies.

 

Every street from Tubberorum to the summit of The Moat,

Every lane from Butterstream to Canon Row,

Every nook and every corner from Blackwater to the Skelp

And from Beechmount to the pub at the "Round O".

As I look along life's years, with their pleasures and their tears

My heart with yearning overflows,

Oh, Navan, dear old Navan, to me, oh gradh mo chroidhe

You're the place where my old home lies.