Far North Of This Land

Far north of this Land by the southern shore
In view of Clara in green Claramore
The old fields resplendent in their flowers of the May
And the hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms white to gray
The nesting birds sing on the bushes and trees
Their pleasant notes carrying in the freshening breeze
Blowing from Caherbarnagh across the gray sky
And the dark barn swallows near to the ground fly
I recall that i once heard a wise woman say
When the swallows are flying low rain is not far away
The flying insects they prey on near to the ground remain
They sense weather change and the oncoming rain
Far north of this Land by the hills far away
The birds chirp and sing in the green groves today.