When lured by dreams of salmon streams,
And sylvan beauties rare,
The tackle stowed you take the road,
That leads to Salmonier.
Observe the sacred custom
Which all travellers compel
Drink from the cool and limpid pool
Of Father Duffy's well.

Tradition tells of early days
How Father Duffy found,
A semblance of water
Just oozing from the ground.
He scraped away the turf and clay
As thirst did him impel,
And very soon,we had the boon
Of Father Duffy's well.

In gratitude to God he knelt,
And blessed as holy ground
That it might be a sacred spot
Through all the ages down.
When bridle path to highroad turned
An axeman came to fell,
Inviolate he kept the state
Of Father Duffy's well.

An elixir for man and beast
Provided for all time,
Secluded from life's arid road
In shade of fir and pine.
Refreshing weary travellers
Inspiring them to tell
How oft exhausted men were saved
By Father Duffy's well.

Then devotees who learned its worth
Adorned and cleared the place,
Safeguarding perpetuity
For all the human race.
They swept unsightly objects from
The precincts of the Dell,
And made a font of Paradise
Of Father Duffy's well.

Cursed be the man that dare profane
This loved and sacred shrine,
And make excuse"material use"
So callous is our time.
Commercial use may dollars bring
But never can excell
The sentimental hertiage
Of Father Duffy's well.