In Her Dress Of Green

She did look lovely in her dress of green
Picking bluebells from the ditch of the bohreen
With eyes  blue as ripened sloes and shoulder length hair of chestnut brown
She was the fairest west of Millstreet Town

But in Duhallow one who did not stay
She went to live in the U S of A
If living she would be close to eighty today
And that physical beauty fades to time seems true to say

Though few things until death with us are known to last
She lives as a fading memory of the past
But so many Seasons have come and gone since then
And so many babes grown into young women and men

The old fields in their wildflowers of the May
And the hawthorns in their blooms of white to gray
The countryside green after recent showers
She sang as she did pick the bluebell flowers

Dark swallows chirping in the sunny sky
In pursuit of flying insects did fly
And as she picked wild bluebells she did sing
The gift of memory is a marvellous thing

A memory of a thirteen year old boy
Of the what was a lifetime to enjoy
That takes him back to sixty years ago
Long before time itself became his foe.