April In Mushera

When the mountain is cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
I will never fell timber by Mushera again
With the cool winds of April blowing across the gray sky
I only have memories of days long gone by

In showery though pleasant weather of fifteen to twenty degrees
The nesting wood pigeons cooing on the pine trees
And robins and thrushes, finches and blackbirds have their songs to sing
In Mushera wood near the prime of the Spring

In my memory time it does seem to stand still
The dark faced horned ewes with their lambs in the fields by the hill
Their bleating have followed me from far away
I fancy that i am in Mushera today

April in Mushera it can be a nice time of year
The lark above the mountain in memory i hear
Cloaked in the gray clouds he sing as upwards he does fly
His mate on her eggs in a ground nest nearby

Rain water flowing brown in every drain
Of April in Mushera the memories with me remain
I felled pine trees there many Seasons ago
Before time that rusts iron did become my foe.