The Voices Of The Corncrakes

The Seasons pass quickly seems only like yesterday
That i heard the corncrakes in meadows far away
Their rasping calls could be heard in the Summer night
In the long grass of the meadows in the faint moonlight

An unmusical sound i loved when i was a boy
That to many rural people was a source of joy
Where i grew to a man nowadays one does not hear
Another victim of human progress it seems obviously clear

In the Summer Meadows of Duhallow the voices of the corncrakes died
When due to the earlier cutting of the grass their eggs were destroyed
The call of the corncrakes is now a thing of the past
And of what used to be only memories do last

In mid twentieth century heavy farm machinery the demise of the migratory corncrakes or land-rails were sown
And to generations of Duhallow children their calls were and are and will never be known
And only the memories with me now does remain
Of something i loved that i will not hear again

A voice from my boyhood that i only can visualize
Heard in the Summer meadows between twilight and sunrise
On my flights of fancy the corncrakes i do hear
In the far away meadows in the Summer of the year.