Thursday, June 30, 2011

Far South Of Duhallow

In green old Duhallow in the prime of July
Above the brown hillside the skylark does fly
The mottled brown beautiful songster of human kind shy
A musical speck in the gray morning sky
When the whortleberries tiny blue fruits of the heather are ripe for to eat
To the taste buds they can be an irrestible treat
The sweet taste of Nature's wild fruit in the memory remain
In fancy i sit on the mountain and eat them again
Such beautiful memories are mine to enjoy
Of where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
Far south of Duhallow in winter in a southern town
The magpie lark sings as the rain drizzles down
And in the park a bird that does sing every day of the year
The song of the magpie is melodious and clear.

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