A Spring Evening In Duhallow

It was an old country that i used to know
In fancy on a beech tree i hear a gray crow
Cawing in the gloam where the Blackwater flow
In the flat green fields where the rushes in clusters do grow
In Spring when the dark shades of evening steal across the sky
The male snipe above the old fields does fly
And with his tail feathers makes a drumming sound
As in the darkness above his borders he flies around and around
A Spring night in Duhallow i remember today
The creatures in daylight hours hidden away
The owls and the foxes and badgers by day hidden from sight
Are searching for food under the cloak of night
On an evening in April in the prime of the Spring
The great gift of memory is a wonderful thing.