Coleraine

Thursday 9 July 2026
poetry

Coleraine, where the Bann’s calm waters sigh,
Stone‑bridge arches span the old town’s eye.
Morning mist drapes the hills in soft, green hue,
While market stalls hum with Ulster’s true hue.
From ancient abbey ruins to modern grace,
Your streets whisper stories time can’t erase.

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Coleraine