In Millstreet In May

A half an hour walk west of the Town of Millstreet
In the old rushy fields where the rivers do meet
The wildborn pheasant is crowing today
Where the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May
Above Matty Owens bog in the gray morning sky
The mottled brown curlew pipes as he does fly
His beautiful flute like notes to live in memory
As he proclaims the borders of his territory
His mate in heavy cover camouflaged in her nest
Her heavily blotched eggs kept warm by the heat of her breast
And the dark brown white breasted dipper in the Finnow does sing
And blackbird is tuning his flute of the Spring
And contented cattle on lush grass chewing their cuds lay
In a field by the river in Millstreet in May.