The voice of the curlew can be heard today
And the dark barn swallows does chirp as they fly
In pursuit of flying insects across the gray sky
In Coolikerane Bog in the long ago
Going back in time some four decades or so
On Summer evening we played football
Some of our happiest memories can be sad to recall
On calm evenings in the Spring of the year
the piping of the curlews so pleasant to hear
On going back in time there has been many a yesterday
Since in Coolikerane Bog ball games we did play
And only the memories with me now remain
Of what used to be but will not be again.
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