On my flights of fancy i sometimes does hear
The curlew over the bog of Denny The Master in the Spring of the year
When the hawthorns are cloaked on their bloom of pale gray
And the old fields looking resplendent in their wildflowers of May
With Ireland's calendar Summer just a few sleeps away
My thougths they are full of old memories today
I only have memories of Nature's beauty i have seen
Such as bluebells in bloom on ditch of every bohreen
And of dark winged swallows chasing flying insects in the sky
To feed their young in their nests on shed rafters nearby
Where i grew to love Nature as a young boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
But we must live in the now as the wise one does say
And at the stroke of midnight the past will be today.
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