The Past May Be Gone

I may never see old Finnow again
Flowing bank high in the old fields swollen by heavy rain
And in Spring in the field where the tall rushes grow
Well hidden from view hear the cock pheasant crow
But when i visualize i can hear the rill
Babbling to the river down the fields by the hill
And the song of the dipper i fancy i hear
The waterway he sings in to my thoughts ever near
I may never again hear the male chaffinch sing
On a leafy birch tree in the prime of the Spring
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms of white to gray
On a beautiful evening of a Duhallow May
The past may be gone but the memories remain
Of old fields i may never walk on again.