Back There In Duhallow 'Tis Prime Of The Spring

Back there in Duhallow 'tis prime of the Spring
Lambs frolic in the high fields and the nesting birds sing,
On trees, bushes and hedges and on the ditch of every bohreen
Nature's own bluebells in clusters to be seen
The hawthorns cloaked in their blooms of white to gray
And the old fields resplendent in their wildflowers of the May
The cattle are thriving on lush grass to their knees
And the warm air is full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
Above the rushy field by the river the brown lark does fly
A musical speck in the gray afternoon sky
The cuckoo is calling in the woodland all day
Like the swallows they Winter in Lands far away
South of their birthplace in Ireland in the warmer clime
And return home to breed in the early Springtime.