Each Time I Receive An Email From Joan Moynihan

It has been some while since I've seen Caherbarnagh or those twin peaks known as the Paps of Shrone Or climbed up to the lake of Gortavehy in the shadows of that hill of het and stone Or stood on the high field by Clara mountain and viewed the lush green country side for miles around But I will be far south of old Duhallow when the swallows will return to their home ground. Each time I receive an email from Joan Moynihan she tells me Millstreet is a changing place And in my old Hometown by Clara mountain perhaps nowadays mine would seem a strange face For another generation has grown up there and were I to return now some well might say Who is the old bloke walking down the West End he must have flown in here from far away? But the fields and woods and rivers would not have changed much they have been around before the dinosaur's time And those old hills that stretch on towards Sliabh Luachra that have inspired the immortal bards to rhyme Would not have changed I still would recognize them they do not age though the Seasons come and go And the rill that trickles through the het and bracken much further down into a river grow. And in the streams the dippers are still singing their scratchy notes I fancy I can hear And in my dreams I still can hear the skylark above the bracken carolling sweet and clear When warm Spring showers bring beauty to Duhallow and Nature's wild flowers bloom in places green And snowdrops, primroses, buttercups and bluebells are on the mossy bank by the bohreen. Each email from Joan Moynihan stir the memories of where I came from north of here and far away Although in the old Town by Clara mountain great changes have been happening as she say But I bet the countryside around has not changed and the Boggeragh hills I still would recognize And the robin and the chaffinch and the bullfinch sing in the wood each time I visualize.