The Boo Of The Grain Threshing Machines

In Autumn in Duhallow a familiar sound in the farm yards when i was a boy
The boo of the grain threshing machines i used to enjoy
Down wind a sound that carried far and wide
For at least a mile across the green countryside

Suppose few things in life ever does seem to last
And in the early nineteen sixties in Ireland changes did happen fast
And in Autumn a thing of great beauty died why otherwise pretend
When the boo of the grain threshing machines in the farm yards came to an end

In Autumn young men of the locality worked in the farm yard threshing and later did socialize
In occasions of community bonding that to good memories give rise
Of life in rural Ireland of the what used to be
That only does live on now in memory

In the grain threshing Season in Ireland in the Fall of the year
The boo of the threshing machines always a joy for to hear
But on the introduction of the combine grain harvester in the countryside
The boo of the thresher in the farm yards died

But good old memories die hard as the wise one does say
And when my flights of fancy take me to places far away
The good memories of what was in me does remain
And the threshing machines i am hearing again.