Above the bare green fields where the Araglen flow
The cold winds of December from the Boggeraghs blow
Cattle in farmyard sheds for Winter locked away
Just after day break bellow for silage or hay
Every passing hour brings Christmas more near
In the dying days of an old year
The weather is just above zero degrees
And the cold wind is soughing in bare deciduous trees
The sun well hidden behind low clouds of grey
In the fields of Duhallow no farmers working today
At least four months from the warmth of the Spring
Hungry birds in hedgerows do not have songs to sing
The cold wind from the Boggeraghs has the breath of snow
Above the bare fields where the Araglen flow.
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