In The Old Fields Of Claraghatlea

In the old fields of Claraghatlea from here far away
The nesting birds sing at the dawn of the day
And the swallows quite close to the rank rushes fly
As the rain drizzles down from the overcast sky
In only two sleeps from the birth of the May
The hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms white to gray
And the dipper does sing in the silver tongued rill
That babbles downland from the field by the hill
O'er the bracken clad slopes of Clara the brown lark carolling
Lost to view in the gray clouds a voice of the Spring
And the dark faced mountain lambs around their mothers do frolic and play
Youth must have it's fling as some do like to say
And the thin billed male dunnock in feathers of mottled brown
Sings on a leafy hedgerow near old Millstreet Town.