Saturday, April 28, 2018

Where The Cails Waters Flow

In green Shannaknuck where the Cails waters flow
In a rushy field a cock pheasant crow
His cucking hoarse voice to hear an unmistakeable thing
A territorial and mating call in the prime of the Spring

In Spring to woo and mate with a female he calls every day
But mating the only part in fatherhood that he does play
She lays her bluish eggs in a scrape on the ground and raises the chicks on her own
For to help her in any way he is not known

Spring in Duhallow is a green time of year
When the song of the spotted song thrush is so pleasant to hear
And the blackbirds and robins and finches greet the dawn in song
Their beautiful voices to Nature belong

It was the lust of the wander that brought me far south
Of the fields of the badger and the waterways of the brown trout
Of the fields where i grew to love Nature good memories with me remain
And on my flights of fancy i visit them again

In the leafy groves of Duhallow from here far away
The wild birds of Nature are singing today
And in a rushy field a cock pheasant crow
In the green countryside where the Cails waters flow.

No comments:

Post a Comment