A Sound Of The Bog

It followed me south from the bogs far away
The male snipe in his territorial display
Above the brown bogland he makes a fast drumming sound
With his tail feathers as he flies around
All night under a darkened sky
He drums out his love calls as he does fly
Until the light of dawn creeps through the clouds of gray
He flies down to the bog for to rest for the day
In my nostalgic moments i often does hear
A sound of the bog in the Spring of the year
The past may be gone but the memories remain
Of a familiar sound i may not hear again
Memories of the snipe's courtship and territoril display today i retain
Why we miss somethings of the past beyond me to explain
In Spring all night long above the bog until the dawn of day
The male snipe does fly in his courtship display.