My Thoughts Often Go To

My thoughts often go to a far away Spring
To the leafy groves when the nesting birds sing
And the little brown lark from the bracken does fly
For to sing his song in the clouds of the sky
The cattle out of wintering sheds of months living on silage and hay
On nutritious young grass gaining weight by the day
And the golden buttercups bloom on the banks of the rill
That babbles to the river down the field by the hill
The great gift of memory is a wonderful thing
In my flights of fancy the chaffinch does sing
On a nice evening in May on a leafy birch tree
And it does seem the memories of what used to be
Will always be with me and with me will stay
Right up till my life's very last night and day.