On High Claramore

Far inland today from Hibernia's shore
Up there in the high wood of green Claramore
The nesting birds of Nature are singing today
For to describe such beauty are there words for to say
The songs of Nature's feathered minstrels so pleasant to hear
On what is a beautiful time of the year
In late Spring and early Summer Nature at her finest is seen
After the recent rain the countryside looking beautiful and green
Such beauty that artists and writers inspire
Of singing of Nature's praises one never could tire
Above the slopes of Clara a musical speck in the sky
The brown lark is singing as upwards he does fly
Where the sun it is shining in a sky blue and gray
On high Claramore from here far away.