On Hearing A Blackbird

Unlike the Aussie magpie his kind does not sing every day of the year
But his is a voice always pleasant to hear
His ancestors brought to here from Lands far away
The blackbird singing in Koroit Town today
On October the nineteenth in the prime of the Spring
The song of the Blackbird is such a beautiful thing
It always does take me to fields far away
When the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
And Nature at her very finest is to be seen
When the bluebells are in full bloom on the ditch of every bohreen
And in the gathering twilight near old Millstreet Town
A blackbird is singing just after sundown
And the night coming in to the soft lowing of a cow
In a darkening field by the River Finnow.