And From You My Dear Country

In Shannaknuck the old hill songbirds pipe all the day And wildflowers bloom in margins by bog road through Liscreagh And curlew in the bogland his flute like notes I hear At once so very far away and then so very near. The skylark leaves the rushes and upwards as he fly He sings all day from dawning till darkness cloaks the sky And blackbird, wren and dunnock with finch in song compete And Spring has come to visit Duhallow and Millstreet. The moorhen in the river out with her tiny chicks And jackdaw busy all day to chimney top drawing sticks And shlaun men in the boglands shlaun out the soggy peat For summer sun to dry out their source of winter heat. And Knocknapogue looks greener than she's looked for sometime And flowers are in the meadows and Spring is in her prime And old Clara hill looks younger than he's looked days ago Up to the tenth of April he wore a cap of snow. And swallows o'er the valley all day wing to and fro And Winter just a memory and grass growing breezes blow And hawthorn tree looks lovely resplendent in her white She's one of Nature's fairest a very pretty sight. The cattle out to pasture, the sheep high on the hill And sunshine at eleven to lift the morning chill A shower of rain at mid day and sun shine out again The memory of such beauty forever will remain. I walk the road of Shannaknuck that winds around Liscreagh And from you my dear Country I've never been away Your hedgerows in prime beauty wear their green cloaks of May And Winter just a memory and birds pipe all the day.