By Mushera Mountain

The winds of early Spring blew with a cold chill Down the wooded slopes of old Mushera hill Most days there damp and cold even too cold to snow Where I cut down pine trees many Seasons ago. Eoin Connors, Gene Buckley and Dan Joe Kelleher to me worked nearby We were in wet weather gear the days were seldom dry In a hard enough way for to earn one's pay I wonder are they felling pine trees today? By Mushera Mountain from here far away In weather that is often chilly and gray Though like me in life they perhaps too have moved on We must live in the now for the past it has gone. But it was nice by Mushera mountain in May The cooing of the wood pigeons in my memory stay The call of the migratory cuckoo was echoing near A voice that is always quite pleasant to hear. The male robin sang to proclaim territory The sun on his red breast I fancy I see By Mushera Mountain in the latter Spring When wildflowers are blooming and nesting birds sing.