In February Far Away

The cold winds of February from the mountains blow
And soughs in the bushes, bare trees and hedgerow
And in fancy i can hear a croaking breeding frog
In a flooded drain by Matty Owens bog
The memories of what was in me does remain
Of faces and places i may not see again
Where the sun seldom shines in clouds foggy gray
By the Boggeragh hills in February far away
Today is what matter yesterday has been and gone
And tomorrow will dawn and the clock ticking on
But in fancy in farmyard shed i can hear the cattle bellowing for silage or hay
In the cold frosty dawn of a February day
As the wintery winds blow with a cold chill
And the gray fogs of rain slowly envelope the hill.