So, briefly, my two stops en route to Westport:

First off, the Ulster American Folk Park was in Omagh and traces the story of Ulster emigrants to the Appalachians where they became know as the "Scotch Irish." You get an idea of how people lived in the old country before settling in the new world. They do tend to go on about how many famous people, including one third of all U.S. presidents have Scots Irish heritage.  This was my cute little granny guide. (I could hardly keep up with her!) Oh, and have to say the place was closed when I got there and she opened the gates for me and showed me around!

They did a good job of recreating life back then. A lot of the houses and furnishings came from the local countryside and were moved on to this property. I was glad the place was closed because apparently, they usually have people in the houses and peat fires going and if you ever smelled a peat fire, well it will choke the life out of you.

They also had a life size replica of the hold of a ship similar to the "coffin ships" that carried the poor emigrants to America, Canada and Australia. Kinda creepy but my pics didn't come out very well.
I did get a picture of these cute pigs in the barn though:

I made a quick stop at William Butler Yeats grave in County Sligo. The church was pretty but the churchyard was in abysmal shape - looked like something out of Night of the Living Dead.

Yikes!

I used to love this Yeats poem:

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.