The swallows that flew above high Claramore
Are flying south to Winter on a warmer shore
They will not be back home to breed till mid April in Spring
When in the woods and groves nesting songbirds whistle and sing
Above sunlit lands from their birthplace far away
When Claramore fields with frost are looking gray
The Claramore swallows will chirp as they fly
Whilst chasing flying insects in the blue and sunny sky
In cup shaped nest on shed rafter bound together by clay
When the sparrows are building their straggly nests of hay
And the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
They first open their eyes to the bright light of day
In the cool winds of Autumn they leave their home-ground
And for the warm Southern Country the swallows are bound.
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